


A Lady, a Knight, a Sentient Land, and all the joys that come with.

by An_Ephemeral_Walk



Series: Sentient Dirt and the things within [1]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fanart, Gen, The whole gang is here, everything is used for either a comedic effect or to enhance the adventure, guess who figured out how, i will be poking fun at accidentally reviving the dead, not a fan of sobfests so don't expect this to feature anything like that, not cause sorrow or drama, the day i write only angst is the day i stop writing, there is a reason for it and it won't be sad, they are still their cartoon versions in this!, this is going to be dark comedy, though I put the major death, when i say graphic violence i mean fight scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 05:35:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 126,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Ephemeral_Walk/pseuds/An_Ephemeral_Walk
Summary: The Land of Inkwell is unique in that it can think and "speak" to its' denizens. The sprawling landmass rests directly on the main source of magic in the world, allowing it to have things no other land does. As such, living there is a bit weird. With people of all shapes and sizes, and stages of living. A king and queen elected by Inkwell, a diplomatic necromancing Lady, and a defense oriented hyper aware Knight was the least weird thing the people had seen and were readily accepted. If anyone said it was also quickly accepted due to the first, and last, fella who disagreed being crushed by a massive slab of dirt, they would be correct as well.While the Lady and Knight wander and aid those in need, wars are painful on the land after all, plenty others go about their day. The Lady isn't the only magically inclined person on the land. However, if Witch in training King Dice doesn't figure out how to levitate the deck of cards in front of him without having to deal with the Devil himself offering to help he'll be one less witch in training. There are only so many times one can take having their entire group of fellow classmates levitated up into the tree line because the Devil doesn't know restraint.





	1. When living dirt doesn't want war

              The Land of Inkwell was quite different from its’ fellow landmasses. Unlike them, it had sentience, an ability to think and rationalize. Though it lacked the morals most sentient beings gained, it did understand such concepts as war, famine, greed, and other land destroying issues. So while it may not have cared deeply about the lives that lived on it, it did care enough to set up a system. Anyone that didn’t agree with it, or tried to ignore it, found their crops dying rapidly, the air turning thin, the water acidic, and other manner of things that would either lead to them changing their ways, or dying.

               Inkwell had no problem reminding the people just who was dependent on whom. Lacking morals sure came in handy when disposing of whiny mooches. 

               It did not however, really want to waste energy stopping wars its' own way, despite having the power to do so. So it formulated a plan using various things it had seen the people do. First, it found the two most well-loved people on its’ soil and made them king and queen. The two were given power to make the laws, act as judges and manage the country’s living denizen needs. But it only took one set of king and queen to see a problem.

               Though the two could help those that made the trek to the castle that had been built years ago, they couldn’t help those who couldn’t make it. As such, Inkwell came up with the perfect plan, have the king and queen have a child and then have that child wander. The Lady was to be the Diplomat and soothe and solve the problems of those who needed it. She’d be given the ability to hear Inkwell far better than anyone else to better help her aid all. Twelve years later the first Lady wandered from the castle, Inkwell sending the message to all in a wave of pleased joy.

               The first Lady lasted three years before an angry farmer caved her skull in with a vicious swing. He was promptly launched into the air and upon coming back down, landed on a bed of vicious stone spikes. Inkwell was all too glad to show its displeasure and since it had no way to speak with words, action was the next best thing. The king and queen, being far too old to produce another heir, were removed from their position and a new king and queen were placed into power. They gave birth to a daughter and as soon as she was of age she was let out into the world, but this time, she was put under the protection of a Knight.

               They were quite effective for the ten years they wandered and there was much rejoicing. Then they fell in love with one another and stopped doing what they were supposed to.

               There was less rejoicing.  

               Inkwell, angry, cut the Lady off entirely from all the magic it had given her and the first Lady and Knight fell into obscurity, with even their place of burial being lost to time. Inkwell decided a new tactic was needed. It knew its’ creatures had an aversion to mating with siblings, thus, after getting the king and queen to have another daughter, the queen was told to have _another_ child, and thus the first brother and sister Knight and Lady were born.

               This trend continued, various new things were put in place, new abilities, trial and error methods of raising the children. But the Lady and Knight were always brother and sister. The Lady gained the ability to revive the dead on a mass level if need be and sense the general need and emotions of a person to better know what the problem was and how to help. She was required to wear pretty gowns as Inkwell loved the way the fabrics would move and swirl. Well that and it found that people attacked her less if she wore something that clearly made her less threatening.

               The Knight was given the ability to allow Inkwell to speak through them using their knowledge of language. They also gained the ability to sense any and all intent towards the Lady, to better protect her, as per his job requirement. Though this also doubled as a handy way of knowing exactly what someone was planning to do, as the Knight could feel the increased emotion and the tensing of the muscles. He was the perfect guard and added a new angle on some issues the Lady might not be aware of.

               Through the trial and error, there was much death, screaming, launching of people who forgot their place, pretty dresses, shiny suits of armor and learning experiences for all; up to the seventeenth Lady and Knight.

               --- 0 --- 0 --- 0 ---

               “Look, all I’m saying is it’s gross that I gotta know that that servant thought your legs were nice.” A very irate thirteen-year-old Knight snapped while gesturing wildly towards his Lady’s new gown. The gown did indeed expose the Lady’s ankles, however, the Lady remained unimpressed.

               “Cuphead, if you think for one second I’m going to start this journey, in this heat, wearing one of the thicker gowns Inkwell offered, you need to get ice in your skull and cool down.” The Lady remarked back, both eyebrows high in the air and a clearly unamused frown on their face.

               “Mugs, look, I get it, it’s hot, look what I’m wearing!” Cuphead gestured to his brigandine, bright red and white like his straw. “But it isn’t-“

               “If you want me to change, take it up with Inkwell, I’m sure it would love to hear how displeased you are with its’ choice.” Mugs replied, scuffing the dirt with a casual swing of one heeled foot. Cuphead gained a rather impressive indignant glare and hissed

               “That was a low blow, brother.”

               The land beneath their feet sent them an amused brush of air. Lady Mugs gave Sir Cuphead that look every sibling gives the other when they’re proven correct. The exact look that, under normal circumstances, would cause a justified play fight in the dirt. However the last time Cuphead tried that he wound up getting jabbed by a broken crinoline wire and spent three minutes crying while his brother had screamed at the tear in the dress.

               Lessons were learned that day.

               Not only that, but it was the first day of their journey, they were finally deemed ready to go out into the world and start doing the job they had been raised to do. There was no way either of the two were going to ruin their first day with a petty scuffle. Cuphead let out a great sigh, the metal on his armor glinting just enough to be annoying to passerby’s and accepted the fact that until the next dress popped up, he’d have to deal with knowing which people found his brothers ankles or corseted form nice. He sometimes _really_ wished Inkwell had filters for what he sensed.

               With one last glance between each other, the two strode through the town surrounding the castle, and headed out the gates into the world outside their home. What they didn’t know was their Elder was currently placing bets on which of the two would mess up first and start a fight.

               It was Cuphead. No one was surprised.


	2. Cursed mirrors and screeching demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a witch in training wonders if the lower cost to share a room is really worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The King Dice chapters will have far more cussing in them than the Lady chapters. As a general rule, I will avoid posting stuff with cliff hangers too. The length will vary as well.

               King Dice knew his roommate was a bit of a dick, however, he didn't realize just how much of a mule faced minge guzzling wand fondler he was up until not three days after summoning Satan; he proudly stormed into the apartment with a cursed mirror. It was days like this that King Dice thought long and hard about whether staying with the pus snorting wank bag was worth the low rent. He would have been fine with his roommate cursing themselves with the mirror, but then his roommate had to waffle stomp his hopes down the drain and put the ugly ass antique in the shared bathroom.

               Honestly, this was worse than the time the shifty herpes infested cum bucket bought ‘sexy time’ dice and tried to replace his head with one of the giant wooden ones. There were few memories that matched the one of what he did to his roommate for such antics. No amount of headache reducing tea soothed the beast that latched onto him when his roommate recovered within a day and spent the next week rolling the sexy dice.

“If you roll these will that be considered masturbation?” His donkey sired roommate had asked him.

“No, when you breathe, does the oxygen you intake just refill the air in your head?” He had asked his mulberry breathed roommate.

“I don’t actually know, but that gives me an idea!” His potentially fae blooded roommate had replied.

Back to other, more important matters, such as the fact that his reflection did not match the ‘barely clinging to sanity’ expression he knew he had on. Now King Dice may not be that twat up on the third floor, whom Dice firmly believed chugged mind enhancing potions like it was going out of style; but he knew when the going got curse like, he got out. King Dice _would_ have absconded and _did_ , in fact, make it to the door before ice cold hands grabbed his arms and yanked on them.

Being a neckless creature had its bonuses, namely, he got to surprise spooks when he went all owl on their asses and spun his face a full 180. No amount of amusement could prevent him from screaming when he saw just what the thing in the mirror had turned into. He should have known that looking at it would only hinder his escape. Now he had to look what could only be the love-child of a Kelpie and a manticore in a long line of incestuous relationships rivaling that of the royalty in the history section’s darker books. It took two precious seconds to pry his eyes away from the thing and try to stop screaming. It took three more to notice the thing had knocked his rather hard to craft eye shadow off the counter and it was now spread out all over the floor in a sad waste of precious gold and violet. Before he could even contemplate his actions, he was headbutting the thing and shoving his hands into its mouth in a bid to rip the sorry bastards jaws off. Of course, that was the exact second the door was ripped off its hinges by Satan.

“I heard screaming and it wasn’t the sexy kind!” The tall ruler of hell shouted while his roommate tried to shove past the devil in order to see ‘what cool thing came from the mirror.’ It was at this exact moment, surrounded by shouting and flailing, standing in the remains of his precious eye shadow, shrieking mirror monster jaw in hand, that King Dice decided to stay in bed for the day.

 

 


	3. Two for one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trio of farmers need help, and a water nymph tries to escape death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a special two for one deal! I sort of lied about not following the game. The gang is all here, but the fact that they made debts is not. As such, the bosses might, or might not, be hostile at first to the brothers. Art has already been drawn for this, I'll go through the chapters and add it as the art gets finished and colored.

              Inkwell might admit to being wrong on occasion. It might agree that it had made mistakes in its’ long life. However, the one thing it would never agree to or admit, was mistaking a gene or two and failing to ensure the queen had a girl. The porcelain child was one of the best Lady’s it could remember in recent times, at least thus far. The child years were things it would try to treasure as long as it could. As it stood, it only took one skull being crushed and half a building being launched to ensure the people didn’t change the Lady’s title. It didn’t want to factor in whether people might be more hostile to the title of Lord. Besides, with the corsets he had worn from a year on, the child fit most any dress well, some exceptions of course. It mourned the loss of the really pretty low back gown the child had outright refused. Another Lady would simply have to wear that one is all.

               The duo had already soothed a few feathers here and there and were currently resting on a couple of tree stumps in the forest. It looked like Lady Mugs had loosened the ties on the back of the vivid green dress if his slightly slumped posture was anything to go by. Inkwell pulled a few trees in closer to give the two a bit of privacy and a chance to relax. Pleased with its work, it turned its attention elsewhere, looking to see where the next person in need of major assistance was.

               “Ohhh, my favorite part of every day.” Lady Mugs spoke while standing back up and rolling his upper body around with more freedom than the steel boned corset usually allowed him. His brother glanced up from unchaining his short sword and quirked a brow.

               “I thought your favorite part was the sleep part.” Sir Cuphead remarked. Mugs stretched his arms up into the air and said

               “That’s my third favorite part. How long do you think we’ve been sitting here?” His question made Cuphead look down towards the trees shadows and guess no more than an hour. The ground under them rolled just enough to tell them which direction they needed to go, silently telling them to get a move on. So, with a great sigh, Mugs turned his back to his sibling and, after reattaching the swords to their thin gold chains, Cuphead re-laced the loosened ties. A few winces, a couple threats of bodily harm if Cuphead ‘even thought of putting your foot on my back to tighten these things,’ and they were off.

               Normally, trekking through the countryside while in a long gown would quickly result in the hem being torn, stained, or any other number of things. Unless it was the Lady wearing the dress, that is. It was a perk few people knew of but that every Lady took hard advantage of. The less a Lady had to pause to clean her gown, the more she could help others, and Inkwell was all about that sort of result. Cuphead’s vivid red brigandine and white sword sheathes made him easy to follow. Mugs green dress however, matched the surrounding leaves, though the nature around them was beginning to change to their fall shades. As such, it was no surprise when an hour into their stroll, three denizens burst out of the foliage and went at Cuphead first.

               Now if the three good friends had known they were facing off against the Knight, they would have stayed away. None really thought it entirely wise to tangle with the one person that knew your intent and every move you were going to make before you even started the attack. As it was, there was a lesson about to be learned and pain about to be dealt. The towering carrot burst out of the ground and was startled when the cherry red target was suddenly no longer there. The sentient potato sporting rather squat legs and arms tried to block off the path with his large form and the white onion frantically pointed to where Cuphead now was, on top of the carrots head. Lady Mugs dove behind a nearby tree so he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire and kept an eye on the fight.

               “Oh man, I can see the next town from here!” Cuphead said gleefully.

               “That better not be a wisecrack you little runt!” The carrot shouted angrily, his arms reaching up for the unwanted passenger. Cuphead ducked away from the hands, grabbed the leaves on the carrots head, and used them to swing down and plant a boot directly onto the carrot’s nose. The carrot let out an impressive string of curse words.

               “Well I didn’t mean it to be but hey!” Cuphead sounded far more amused than he really should, considering he was surrounded. His confident comment cost him a few seconds and a reaching hand managed to grab him by the middle. The next thing he knew he was stuck in a tree above the potato and a third eye was opening up on the carrots forehead to stare at him.

               “Cuphead!” Mugs shouted, worry clear on his face. But doing so caused the three to realize there was indeed a second person and the potato grabbed the Lady by the arm and yanked him closer. Cuphead immediately started clawing branches off of his body and Mugs smacked himself on the forehead.

               “We don’t want much trouble!” The white onion cried out, he looked close to tears and was shaking a tad.

               “If you don’t let go of my brother you’ll have plenty of it!” Cuphead snapped back at him and the carrot, who had been shifting closer to the potato. The carrot eyed the two of them and then grinned.

               “Yeah, well if you don’t-“

               “I feel like introductions are in order!” Mugs spoke loudly and with just enough power that the three surrounding him paused. He brushed a few bits of dirt off the silk skirt and cleared his non-existent throat.

               “Hello, I am Lady Mugs, the Lady of Inkwell. That up there is my brother, Sir Cuphead, Knight of Inkwell. I do hope that we can _peacefully_ help you with whatever problem you have that made you decide attacking us was a wonderful idea.” Though his voice was now quieter and far more polite, the steel placed into the word ‘peacefully’ made it clear that he wasn’t willing to stand for any more swings at his sibling.

               “Oh! sorry,” the onion said and carefully waved, “my name is Weepy. That there is our leader, Psycarrot, and that’s Moe. I uh, wish I could say it was nice to meet you, Lady.” The potato, Moe, let his grip on Mugs arm loosen enough for him take it back. The bright smile he got in return momentarily stunned him.

               “Look, we didn’t know it was you two, but if you’re so willing to help, we got a uh, a request.” Psycarrot leaned over a bit and plucked Cuphead out of the tree. He pointedly ignored how the liquid in the cup’s skull was steaming and how the moment he was on the ground he was at Mugs side. They knew better than to be insulted. After pulling a couple leaves from Cuphead’s straw, Mugs gestured for them to continue.

               “See, we’re farmers by trade. We sell our produce in that town to the east and normally we stick to our fields.” Moe started first, he had a deep voice that made the ground shake a bit. Though the shaking could have been Inkwell’s blisteringly angry but silent vows for retribution, either or.

               “Well normally we don’t have filthy blue blobs destroying our water supply and making all our stuff turn to mush! It’s embarrassing, we’re forest sprites! We shouldn’t be resorting to thieving just to make ends meet!” Psycarrot slammed one of his hands down in anger, Weepy shakily pat his orange friend on the arm closest to him and Mugs let out a soothing sound as well.

               “We don’t want to go about scaring travelers, but there’s only so much magic we have and our poor crops weren’t as great this year or the last. You gotta understand, it’s miserable to put in all the work we did only to pull up half rotted vegetables instead.” Moe’s entire body slumped inward, a large frown overtaking his face.

               “Not only that, but we’re also feeling the effects. We take in that water too, and a few months ago, we noticed that our magic was acting funny. Weepy over there got a papercut a few weeks back and when he cried the dirt around him started vanishing, turns out his tears are acidic now! Psycarrot can’t use his telekinesis without getting painful headaches, and I keep throwing up clumps of dirt.” He continued. The two brothers listened, one more intently than the other.

               “Listen, we’re real sorry for manhandling you, and tossing you into that tree. Please help us, we swear we won’t go around being bandits once our garden is back up.” Weepy begged, reaching for, but not actually touching, Mugs shoulder. The Lady and Knight of Inkwell turned to one another and nodded after a few silent seconds of mental back and forth.

               “Of course we’ll help, that’s our job. Lead the way Mr. Psycarrot, Mr.Weepy, Mr. Moe.” Mugs gestured for them to take the lead. Ahead of the group, the trees shifted and bent to clear a path and the trio let out various noises of awe and surprise. After a quick debate, Psycarrot and weepy returned underground and Moe, the only one really able to travel above ground for extended periods of time, led the way to the town off in the distance.

\---0---0---0---

               It was likely that the garden in its’ golden day was gorgeous. In its current form however, the same could not be said. The greens all had sickly blackish blue veins, the ground had an odd purple coloration and the air had a strange thick quality. The nearby stream was the strangest of all, its normally clear water was a disgusting deep blue sludge. The two brothers had never seen anything like it and wound up just taking it all in for a few moments. A quiet sniffle from Weepy snapped them out of it and the two got to work.

               “Well, all things considered, there are a few things it could be. It might be someone upstream dumping things into the river that don’t belong.” Cuphead suggested, eying the frankly disturbing water beyond the fence.

               “It could also be someone cursing your garden. It’s not unheard of.” Mugs poked at a nearby stem but snapped his hand back when it flopped over and a blue ooze trickled out from the ground.

               “If that’s the case then all we gotta do is bring the land back, it’s a lot of land though, we should just see if trying it on a small patch works.” Cuphead replied. The three gardeners gained questioning looks on their faces. It seemed like they had been thinking about culprits but the mention of trying something brought their attention fully on the two porcelain teenagers. They watched the Lady nod, take a deep breath and as he let it out the air went from being thick with an invisible cloud to thick with electricity. Sparks of bright green lightning crackled up and down Lady Mugs’ arms and thunder roared above, though there were no clouds. Then, in a split second, a brilliant shower of neon green and gold lightning crashed down around everyone. Moe perked right back up from his tired slumped form and felt his flesh return to a healthy firm state. Psycarrot’s nose stopped aching and the blue spots in his green leaves vanished. Weepy almost started crying upon realizing the aching feeling of his own blood burning his skin had vanished. The land around them heaved up once and then all went still and quiet. Blinking the lights out of their eyes, the trio took in the sight.

               The blue sludge in the water was bubbling, the dirt under them now had a thick layer of blue ooze on it, the air was no longer hard to breathe. Still, the two siblings didn’t look all that happy, Mugs had one arm across his midsection, propping up his other arm, while his index finger tapped his nose. Cuphead bent down to take a closer look at the strange goo.

               “What was that?!” Psycarrot sounded confused and happy and the two beside him nodded frantically. No spell they had ever used or seen was that intense.

               “Oh? That’s the Lady’s necromancy, all necromancy really is, is super healing after all. So the good news is you don’t have any corpses under your garden or they’d be crawling out of the dirt by now.” Cuphead answered, taking his eyes off the ooze. Mugs lifted his skirt up just enough so it wouldn’t get any of the ooze on it while he started to head over to his brother.

               “Unfortunately, I don’t think that actually worked. I restored the land, but that isn’t what was wrong.” Mugs told them, giving them an apologetic expression. Had he kept looking down, he would have noticed how the ooze seemed to be migrating over to him, the edges of his dress no longer high enough to avoid being stained. Had he been a warm blooded sort, he would have noticed the cold liquid wrapping around his ankles. But he wasn’t, and Cuphead was too busy looking over towards the stream, which was now suddenly clear. Finding it odd, Cuphead trudged over and stopped at the fence to look out into the water. It was a sudden bubbling noise and a sharp hiss from Inkwell that made Cuphead spin around quickly to face his brother. Before he could call out, the ground under him liquified and he went down. Years and years of training kicked into gear, and a split moment later he was up and trying to get the mud off of his face. There were surprised shouts from the farmers, Psycarrot toppled over and let out a hard breath when Moe landed on top of him and Weepy crashed down as well. The three frantically tried to get back up, confused noises and shouts that Cuphead simply didn’t hear.

               What he did hear, and caught a glimpse of, was what looked like a blueberry from hell half over his brother. Mugs arms were lost in the things blob body and he was just barely keeping his back and shoulders from being over taken. Cuphead watched the dirt under the blob fall open and he heard his brother scream in horror and Inkwell shriek with rage. Before he could get up however, a tiny version of the thing that had vanished below the dirt appeared and launched itself at his face. He had just enough time to roll out of the way and reach for his short sword before another warning sprang up in his mind and he whipped out the blade, the flat of it squashing the tiny form.

               Cuphead faintly heard his brother scream for him and he lashed a foot out, punting one of the soon to be sorry globs right into a fence post where it was flattened. He dug his hands into the rapidly solidifying ground and tore off towards the gaping sinkhole. A blob came at him from the side but it was smacked clear out of the air by a near invisible force. He spared a quick glance at the trio. Psycarrot’s third eye was fully open and the air around him shimmered with an oppressive force crushing any blob that came within ten feet. Moe was smashing blue blobs left and right, and Weepy sobbed hysterically. Despite the great shivers that wracked Weepy’s form, he batted blobs away. All three of them were keeping the sinkhole clear enough that Cuphead was able to give a quick nod of thanks and dive right in.

               As he sprinted into the dark he heard Psycarrot shout out

               “Nobody, but nooooobody, ruins our garden! We’ll squash you sorry fruit rejects like a _grape._ ”

\---0---0---0---

               If there was one downside to being a sprawling landmass, it was the lack of precision. Despite a dire wish to crush the thing manhandling its’ Lady, it simply couldn’t. Not unless it wanted to crush everything around it, including the Lady. What it _could_ do, however, is keep its’ Knight up to date on where the thing was taking him. The thing was blabbing on and on about how wonderful the magic its’ Lady had was, how it no longer needed to fear death if it had him to keep the reaper away. If that thing thought for one second that Inkwell wouldn’t be seeking retribution for its’ Lady’s poor treatment, it was in for a very painful surprise.

\---0---0---0---

               Mugs was terrified but had stopped screaming and instead focused his attention on two things. Keeping as much of himself as he could out of the body of Goopy Le Grande, as he called himself. If he got any of his soul liquid into that mess he genuinely feared what would happen. The second thing was listening to whatever Goopy was quickly and merrily saying. He only barely noted the strange glow coming from Goopy’s body.

               “I’m a water nymph ya see, and everyone knows water always gotta flow and move and live. Oh sure, some might say I have a fear of death but I don’t think so!” Mugs watched with wide eyes as half of the nymph’s face started to lose shape and melt into the body.

               “Boy I tell ya, it was awful close there. Those sprites were runnin’ out of life for me to eat and I swear I could about see Ol’ Devil himself loomin’ over me a few times! Then you jazzed up the garden and Bam!” He shouted and Mugs jolted, his entire frame trying to curl in for a split second before he snapped back and managed to pull his elbows back out of the undulating form keeping ahold of him.

               “I knew, boy I knew that you were the answer! Why, I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before, everyone knows ya can’t die when ya friends with a necromancer! I’m glad them high and mighty sprites got ya to come to the garden. If they hadn’t I don’t know what I woulda done. Well that’s a lie, I know what I’d do but let me be the first to tell you.” Goopy made a sharp left turn in the tunnel they had been traveling in the whole time, then Goopy’s face slid over his gelatin like surface to fully stare at the boy. The only thing that hadn’t moved was Goopy’s mouth.

               “The mini’s you see all around here taste horrid, even if I get a little life back by eating them.” Goopy’s voice had lowered and gained an unnatural echo. Mugs gave a shaky nod, and frantically hoped that his brother was gaining ground. He shot a glance back at the way they had come but couldn’t see or hear any signs of his brother over the enraged shaking of the surrounding rocks. If Inkwell was this angry, then Cuphead, sharing a link with Inkwell, would be beyond livid. Then, as they reached a massive cavern, a smell hit his nose and he near gagged. His body lurched forward and his face went dangerously close to Goopy’s body, and that’s when the smell intensified.

               Now, the average citizen could get a whiff of something nasty and could say “what smells like death?!” and it would be thought of as a joke or a simile. When a Diplomatic Necromancer, who had been surrounded by death, said that however, it was never taken as a simile. Mugs knew what death smelled like, he’d known since he was two years old and had gone wandering into the castles graveyard. One tiny sneeze later and he’d been surrounded by a variety of corpses cooing over him or wondering what awoke them. So when he got a full breath of Goopy he began to hyperventilate, he _knew_ that smell.

               “You… You’re already dead! I can’t cure death!” He cried out, tugging once more at his arms to try and get them free. The eyes still in front of him narrowed sharply. Evidently that was not the correct thing to say.

               “Now you listen here you runt. I ain’t dead. He may have tried, but I fought back. I got him to back off and keep away. It may have taken eating a couple other nymphs but I did it.” Goopy hissed, his entire body shivered with rage. Mugs stuttered out a quick apology and leaned as far away as he could.

               A hand grew out of Goopy’s body, a red boxing glove on it for some odd reason, and he cracked open the glove enough to pry the Lady out of his side. He dropped the drenched porcelain child into a pool of thick, glowing liquid. When Mugs tried to lunge away the water lurched up and forced his entire body under the surface.

               “Ah, stay there little necromancer. That there is where I came into this world. I wouldn’t think of leaving it if I were you. I heard that porcelain types can have their limbs broken clean off without dying, and I’m willing to test that if you try to escape. I only need you to keep fixin me and keep death away is all! Besides, I may know well enough to just break off a leg or two, but my mini’s? Well, they ain’t quite that smart.” The walls illuminated by the black tinged glow of the pool undulated and slowly, oh so slowly, the massive cavern lit up. The pitch-dark area was soon light enough that Mugs could see the ceiling high above. Three slim walkways lead to the stone platform the two were on and it was clear that the walkways were the only thing preventing a drop into a pit. Thousands of eyes stared back at him from above and a strange wet hissing began to fill up the cavern. Upon watching Goopy snatch his arm out, snatch up a handful of the blobs, then crush them in his blackened mouth; only then, did Mugs toss aside all dignity, grace, and common sense, and scream out for his brother. His voice echoed in the massive cave, but it didn’t cover up the squelching noises and the tiny screams from Goopy’s maw.

\---0---0---0---

               There had been an almost tradition amongst Lady’s and Knights. It was the day they all discovered just how uncoordinated Inkwell was. The second lady had lost her life to Inkwells inability to do more than sense and speak through the knight. She had been launched into the air with her assailant and died upon smashing back into the ground. After that point, every other pair tried to hone the Land’s strength to no success. Just pointing in a direction meant nothing to Inkwell and it had tripped up the various Knights and Lady’s trying to help them out. That is, up until Cuphead and Mugs.

               Cuphead sprinted through the tunnels, following the trail of slime that had been left and skidding through turns. As he got deeper into the cave it was only due to Inkwell that he could ‘see’ the walls and the trail. His swords smacked against his armored legs and the thin chains jangled with his desperate movements. The few blobs that wandered in his way were crushed mercilessly either by the pommel of his dagger or his heel. He could feel the blinding rage of Inkwell pressing down and washing over him, but his own far eclipsed Inkwell’s and kept Cuphead from flat out losing it. He slammed into a wall, the slime trail making him slip and miss the turn. He felt a piece of his handle break off upon the impact but didn’t spare a second to pick the piece up and charged on.

               He’d spent his entire childhood gearing up to be the illustrious and proud Knight. He’d also spent his childhood scaring the monsters out of his little brother’s closet and out from under his bed. If he found even a crack on his brother, he’d squash that thing so hard into the dirt it’d take centuries to peel itself back out. Not only would it mean he had failed as a Knight, but their mother would absolutely destroy him. Inkwell wouldn’t even have to bother, and there’d be nothing left of him to put in the tomb. Sure, being a porcelain being meant he’d live for centuries, which meant that feasibly he could just wait for the next Lady, or another sibling, to be born. But his mother had all but vowed to decimate him down to his soul if he ever made her go through what she had again.

               He knew he was getting closer when the path of goo got thicker and forced him to run toward the edge of the floor, near the walls. He could hear a wet hissing sound from ahead, and then he heard his brother scream out for him. He burst through what looked like an entrance, took in the sight of the thing snatch up what looked like a handful of the tiny blobs and eat them. Without breaking stride or slowing down, he unchained his dagger and threw it as hard as he could. The blade embedded itself into the things left eye just as it turned to see what was coming at him.

               Cuphead quickly dropped into a slide to avoid the red glove that snapped out his way and launched himself at the screaming thing’s face. Taking a guess at the fact that his dagger had made tangible damage he drove his heels directly into the hilt and into the other eye before spring boarding off the melting form and landing in the pool, barely missing his sibling’s legs.

               “He’s a water nymph, Cuphead! Get out!” Mugs shouted, his body thrashing but never breaking the surface. Cuphead immediately leapt back out but didn’t have time to dodge the punch and was sent crashing into the wall behind the pulsating pool. There was a sharp crack, but a bright blaze of lightning overtook the noise and the severe break that had about broke Cuphead’s skull in two was gone just as soon as it appeared. The streaks of lightning that hit the pool caused it to sizzle and hiss and a black sludge to rise up and slough off to the sides.

               The dagger clattered to the ground and Goopy laughed, blinking his fully repaired eyes. Cuphead didn’t even pause, the flash of pain being nothing to the sheer loathing he felt. He dodged the next punch, jumping over it and slashing at the arm with his short sword. The blade cleaved through the limb and a burst of blackened blood poured from the wound. A small portion splashed onto Mugs handle and in a deep tiny corner of his mind he wondered if the ribbon tied to it was any more salvageable than the dress would be.

               Cuphead kept moving, trying to angle his ducking and dodging away from his brother. His mind raced with ideas of what he could do. Water nymphs were notoriously difficult to attack… or stay in a room with for extended periods of time. Their main bodies could be slashed and hacked at but as long as their central heart stayed alive and safe, they’d just regenerate. This one, however, didn’t seem to be regenerating. If anything, the wound seemed to fester and cause the surrounding area to blacken. He tried to figure out why that was while keeping up his swift pace and glanced at his brother in hopes that Mugs would have any idea. Luckily for him, his brother was watching the fight and caught his glance.

               “He’s dead Cuphead! He’s eating the tiny ones to keep on this side of the plane! He won’t have the regeneration that the living ones do!” Mugs called out, tilting his head up and away from the black sludge now covering the surface and coming dangerously close to his mouth. Cuphead didn’t show that he heard but Mugs knew he had anyway. Goopy’s smug grin faltered and he leapt high into the air. His arm shot out and snapped up a few mini’s that couldn’t dodge, and didn’t know to, and quickly ate them. The wound on his arm stopped bleeding and with another mouthful it had sealed back up, the black stain didn’t leave, however. Goopy crashed back down hard, shaking the rock slab they were on and causing Cuphead to stumble. He slammed his gloved fist down hard directly next to the pool and shouted.

               “Heal me, necromancer! I won’t die! He won’t take me! Goopy Le Grande is too great to die!”

               The black sludge shook and the liquid of the pool latched onto the bottom of the Lady’s head. In a panic, Mugs screamed and tears began running down his face. Before anything else could happen, the dagger once again found itself planted into Goopy’s eye. Unlike before, a loud crack and a flare of light lit up the area. A fraction of a second later there was a gaping hole blown through Goopy’s arm.

               “Keep your nasty hands off my Lady.” Cuphead didn’t shout, he didn’t raise his voice, but he was clearly heard over the wail from Goopy. His voice was far more intense and almost seemed to come from everywhere at once. Inkwell shook the walls of the cavern and it began to rain blobs and rocks. Goopy seemed to know something was different but the pain was too much, so he leapt up once more and began eating as many tiny blobs as he could. He cried out about death couldn’t go near him, a note of insanity slipping into his terrified and angry demands. Cuphead took that moment to begin drawing a line directly between him and the pool on one side, and the leaping nymph on the other. He started from the wall and darted to make a half circle, squashing a few unfortunate blobs and slicing others in half.

               What the others before them had never tried, had never thought of, strangely enough, was what turned out to work. Despite having very little precision, Inkwell was very good at sensing the movements of the Knight and Lady. So the brothers had decided, one day, to try a trick. Little teacup Cuphead had shakily waddled to his teacher’s book under the tree, grabbed a piece of charcoal, and drew a line in the grass.

               Much like the charcoal, though the blade didn’t make much of a true line, it was the path that was most important. Goopy landed just as Cuphead finished. He had just enough time to watch Cuphead dive to grab the necromancer’s head and pull it in towards his body. The cavern violently shook once, and the pit below, and the ceiling above, smashed together a moment later. The line Cuphead drew however, everything on the brother’s side of things, stayed in place. The half circle drawn into the rock the only part that hadn’t moved.

               Cuphead shielded his brothers head from falling debris and waited until the cavern settled. The pool holding his brother’s body captive turned an ugly mottled deep blue and then Mugs hands broke the surface. The body heaved itself up and Cuphead grabbed one of Mugs hands and yanked him the rest of the way out. Without the living ability to regenerate, the pool couldn’t prevent the black sludge, a sign of death for water nymphs, from overtaking the heart and drowning it. Mugs laid sprawled across his brother’s legs, his hand tightly held onto Cuphead’s own. The two just laid in the pitch black and calmed their breathing. Inkwell slowly pulled the two slabs apart, and a hole slowly began to appear in the ceiling, letting sunlight pour in.

               Mugs other hand reached for his head and moved it properly in place right between his collarbones. Slowly, oh so slowly, he crawled up and laid back down properly next to Cuphead, his hand didn’t let go however.

               “Cuphead?” He said in a quiet voice.

               “Yeah?” Cuphead answered.

               “We have to go check on the forest farmers.” Mugs said, paused, and continued.

               “Cuphead, How gross do you think this dress looks?” Mugs asked.

               “Like you rolled into a blueberry patch and they all spontaneously threw up on it.” Cuphead replied.

               “I think it’ll look like that time I got the pen seamstress so angry she blew her top and covered everything with ink.” Mugs guessed. At the same time, the two looked down.

               It was a tie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing I love most about the game is the fact that if you go near the boss lairs you hear little sounds to go with the bosses. Goopy Le Grande has the sound of rushing water. He also clearly has something against death if the fact that he keeps fighting you as a tombstone is anything to go by.


	4. Devil and his Poor Servants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Dice isn't sure what got the Devil himself so interested in a witch in training, but whatever it is, he wishes it would go away. Much like his security deposit, and some of his dignity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less cussing in this one, but still. for some odd reason these chapters just wind up being short. Hell if I know, but the last time I tried padding chapters to be specific lengths it was the single worst thing I had ever written. Yes, these two different sides will connect at some point. There's a reason I'm putting them here rather than the soon to be added side story dump.

If there was one thing that annoyed King Dice more than his makeup being smudged or ruined, it was having no power over a situation. With the Devil himself--who still refused to leave even when King Dice had threatened to smack him with a nearby broom-- declaring he would help Dice in his witch studies, King Dice did indeed feel powerless. If the broom of discipline had no effect on the ruler of sin; and some clearly half-assed attempts at sending the Lord of Inkwell Hell away courtesy of his roommate failed; there was nothing the Die headed man could do.

               “Much as I appreciate the offer, I think I’d rather get better the good ol’ fashioned way. Just because I’m having some _minor_ trouble with levitation spells and runes doesn’t mean I should give up my soul.” King Dice carefully did not look up at his roommate, who was crawling towards the kitchen. Upon hearing his response, and all the fur on his body poofing out, lips curling in the smuggest shit eating grin King Dice had ever seen, King Dice added “smarmy fuck” to the description list for Satan.

               “Well see here’s the thing Kingey, I wasn’t askin’ for your soul in return,” Devil drawled. King Dice was not amused.

               “Besides, last I checked, your notes were on that desk,” Devil’s grin widened even further, one clawed finger extending to point toward said desk. “Look, all I’m suggesting is I get someone, one of my…lackeys, to teach you better than that teacher of yours! I know just the fella too, I’m sure you’ll get along.” And before King Dice could say no, a ring of fire blazed to life on the carpet, and out came what looked to be a crystal ball. A crystal ball with an ill-fitting grin on its’ face.

               “Now this here is Mangosteen, he floats, he also has rainbow vomit so don’t get him too excited.” The Devil’s tail wagged back and forth much the way a cat’s would when it was highly pleased with itself. King Dice took a moment to take the blackened glass being’s entire appearance and nodded politely.

               “The name is King Dice, I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you but I get the feeling-“

               “Wait a second boss, he’s got no body! How does he not know how to levitate things? Fella, you're doing it to your own head!” Mangosteen spoke, interrupting King Dice. He had a voice that reminded King Dice of the sound a mirror demon his roommate punched out made before the thing shattered. They had been pulling glass out of everything for _weeks_. He was also silently pleased, and annoyed, that he had guessed right. This had the chance to be worse than that Wheezy fellow.

               Before King Dice could even inhale to snap back at the fortune teller reject he heard what sounded like a forest of bones snapping and cracking. He turned just in time to see the Devil’s fur ignite into an inferno of hellfire and three more sets of arms sprout out of the rapidly growing beast’s sides. A seemingly endless maw of teeth snapped open and four eyes grew into being on Devil’s forehead and he _shrieked._ His roommate fell to the ground, his desk was caught just before it could land on top of him, and all the windows and mirrors shattered at once in what sounded like four other rooms, not including his. Mangosteen cowered and immediately tried to apologize as fast as his too large mouth could.

               But what held King Dice’s attention was the fact that he had never seen the Devil shift like this before. He must have made some sort of noise because the beast froze and three vivid red eyes turned to him.

               “Well slap my nipples and call me smuckle the destroyer of jelly, that is nifty!” His roommate said from his spot on the floor. King Dice idly nodded in agreement and while it would have been fun to watch the crystal thing get smacked around, it would be far better to see what else Devil could shift into. Maybe if he offered to give Devil a kiss he’d let King Dice see all sorts of other transformations, like a dragon, or a shark. However, before anything could be said his door was kicked open by a very, _very_ irate blonde-haired neighbor.

               “King Dice, you snitty filth sniffing bitch of life! You broke _all of my stage equipment!_ ” She shrieked, then, with impressive strength, hefted Mangosteen above her head and launched him at Devil’s face. Funny enough, it sounded like two coconuts smacking together, King Dice noted right before the screaming and shouting began. He then noted he’d have to offer up a few things if he wanted to be sure the least offensive neighbor didn’t get torn to shreds. Giving a half-hearted prayer to Inkwell that his makeup was pristine enough, he got to work. If he was later seen wearing a rather gorgeous, if a tad short, dress later on, his magic body conforming to fit it perfectly, then anyone that remarked on it was mysteriously found on the ceiling an hour later. No one was dumb enough to question it in the presence of the king of hell.


	5. Dream a little Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An observant observer would observe their surroundings as observantly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm splitting my time between writing and drawing, so these chapters are gonna come out a tad slower. I'll also get my tumblr running again soon enough. I might even drag the snake eyes thing I wrote there over to here, it could be the start of the thought dump.

 

After a quick detour to check up on the farmers, and after being profusely thanked and given a few vegetables, the siblings head off to the next person in need of help. Lady Mugs had taken a quick moment to coax Inkwell into sealing the sinkhole in the garden back up, gotten hugged again, but had finally left well enough alone and had made a beeline for the nearest treeline. Inkwell was already sending waves of excitement for the next gown it had prepared for its’ Lady; Mugs just desperately wanted out of the crusty, irreparably ruined gown. Sir Cuphead had been twice as observant while they had gone back through the tunnels via a path given to them by Inkwell.

               In fact, Cuphead hadn’t let Mugs walk more than a few feet without picking up his own pace to keep within arm’s reach. As such, Mugs had casually tapped out a special pattern with his heel, telling Inkwell desperate measures were required. See, it was well known to anyone that knew Cuphead, that he had a certain preference for red. He always perked up when his mother wore red, or his father wore red, but especially when his brother wore red. Mugs had never figured out why, and Inkwell and Cuphead refused to give an answer, so Mugs simply accepted it and had Inkwell and the seamstresses craft a special vault of various red gowns for emergency purposes.

               Of course, Mugs figured Cuphead would be shaken at almost losing him. Goodness knew Mugs was just as frazzled, but ever the Diplomat, he was far more interested in keeping his knight happy. He also just didn’t want to go through another winter incident. So as soon as he reached a dense patch of trees, and Inkwell grew thick walls of vines to completely conceal him, he peeled the sorry remains of the green gown off, let Inkwell give him a quick wash with a flash downpour, and got dressed. As the walls receded, he pulled on the last elbow length pure white glove down his arm and muttered “Desperate times, desperate measures.”

               The vivid candy apple red satin gown had an instant effect. Cuphead noticed it first and then shot his brother a grateful but knowing look. Mugs casually strolled ahead, his head tilted just the slightest bit up. Cuphead let out a snort, but his shoulders lost their tense line and his hand no longer hovered near the short sword’s hilt. For that, despite not much liking having to wear red, Mugs decided it was well worth it.

\---0---0---0----

               Cuphead didn’t know how no one but Inkwell had figured out why he liked when others wore red. It was because red was such a bright color, he could easily watch his sibling and charge and didn’t have to focus as hard at trying to find a green dress amongst a green forest. He’d forever have a grudge against white gowns. Those things could burst into flames for all he cared.

\---0---0---0---

               Reaching the town took two more hours of walking. By then, after all the excitement they had had, they were tired. Unfortunately, the vivid red gown next to the ever present armored knight was a clear marker and denizens of various shapes and types immediately dragged them off to help with an assortment of things. The Lady bore it with a cheery smile and the Knight even pitched in when strength was needed or a more clear threat was required to get some friendlier folks to back away. Beautiful it may be, the dress was off the shoulder and Cuphead still couldn’t talk Inkwell into selectively turning off his senses when it came to people more interested in the Lady than they frankly should have been.

               Finally the waves of people died down and the last person that came up to them owned an Inn that they were more than willing to let the two stay in for free.

               “You see,” the bird told them, “I’m one of the only inn’s around here, and that should mean that business is fine, but no! There’s something afflicting my poor guests and I can’t figure out what it is!” She cried, clutching Lady Mug’s hands in her wings. “Please Lady Inkwell, you have to help, I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked.” She sniffled and Mugs’ gave her a reassuring smile.

               “Of course, but, and I’m sorry to ask, you wouldn’t mind us taking a quick rest before we got started, would you?” Mugs tilted his head down a tad, taking advantage of the thick lashes he had inherited from his mother and gave the innkeeper his best doe eyes. She lasted all of half a second before readily agreeing.

               The two were quickly settled in a room on the upper floor, with two beds and a window that gave a clear view of the moon and stars above. Mugs tiredly took a second to admire a particularly low and bright white star before he shuffled out of his clothing, pulled on a night gown supplied by Inkwell, and got ready for bed. Cuphead didn’t even do that much, he just took his swords off, slipped the dagger under the pillow of his bed, removed his brigandine, and flopped right onto the bed uncaring of the chainmail still on him. The two were asleep within minutes of laying down.

\---0---0---0---

               Cuphead opened his eyes and found himself in a forest. It was dense, and the sunlight barely poked through the canopy high above. He noticed how his short sword was missing from the chain and let out a confused hum. Some distant part of him seemed to know he was dreaming, but for an unknown reason, he simply couldn’t focus on that part enough to hear it properly. He started walking, not liking how he couldn’t see where his brother was. Stumbling around for what felt like an hour, it was no surprise when a sudden noise caught his attention, and then he truly realized how quiet the forest was. Growing more nervous at the second, he called out for his brother and listened carefully. The sound of shattering porcelain answered him and he immediately started running in the direction of the noise. The forest grew increasingly dark and a mist settled over the ground, obscuring his vision.

               That wouldn’t have been a problem usually, Inkwell would simply give him a clear path and pull back any roots. This time, that didn’t happen. Cuphead found himself stumbling every once in a while over thick, gnarled roots, but at the sudden sharp cracking that pierced through the silence, he sped up. There was a familiar scream of his name, but based on Mugs voice, the Lady was terrified, close to crying; and in pain. Cuphead shouted for his sibling again and desperately plowed through the thick foliage towards the noises. Just as he thought he was getting closer, something caught on his ankle and he crashed into the ground, his hands just barely catching his head in time. He sat up and looked back at what caught his ankle. It was a single blue ribbon attached to a gown. A thick wave of dread slammed into Cuphead, his hands started shaking, and he followed the ribbon up.

               White porcelain stained with a dark blue liquid dotted the lap of the body, and had scattered around on the ground. A blue and white stripped straw laid on the ground beside a broken hand. Following the dark blue stain up to the source, Cuphead stopped breathing, too numb to do even that. Half of his brother’s head was missing, shattered so badly the remaining half had no jaw and deep cracks marred the white porcelain. Tear tracks stained the remains of the cheek, and a dull, glassy eye lifelessly stared at nothing. Cuphead tore his eyes away from his siblings head and followed the line of the break, where his short sword’s hilt stuck out of a deep split in the torso.

\---0---0---0---

               Cuphead screamed and fell out of the bed, flailing and falling off the bed, landing on one of his boots. He didn’t bother to even think about the painful crack from his midsection, too busy desperately trying to get his legs back under himself so he could crawl over to the bed beside him. Mugs shot up, dazedly wiping a bit of drool off his face and looked around for his brother. He almost screamed when Cuphead popped up from the edge of the bed and began checking his collar area and his face with the most terrified look in his eyes Mugs had ever seen.

               “Cuphead! Cup-, brother! Big brother please!” Mugs snatched his siblings shaking hands into his own and pressed their palms together. Cuphead let out a horrified whimper and crashed down across his brother’s lap. Mugs let out a surprised squeak but didn’t loosen his hold on his knights hands. He leaned towards his sibling and gathered Cuphead up in a hug, muttering various reassurances of his safety in a soothing and quiet tone.

               “Big brother, what has you so scared?” Mugs asked once his brother’s shaking had settled to periodic tremors. Cuphead just shook his head and buried his face into the nightgown. Though Porcelain types didn’t have heartbeats, they had a gentle pulse of soul liquid that acted much the same. Mugs pressed a hand on the crack, and, upon realizing there was indeed a break on his brothers side, sent a healing wash of magic through the split. He started to rock back and forth, deciding to let Cuphead settle down a little more. Coaxing Cuphead to shift so they could both lay down, Mugs leaned against the head board and Cuphead clung to his middle like a leech. Outside, Inkwell sent comforting waves over the inn, soothing both its Knight and the rest in the building.

               “It,” Cuphead quietly started after a long ten minutes. “It was just a bad dream is all.” His voice was weak and heavy. Mugs nodded and twisted so he could rest his cheek on Cuphead’s brim.

               “Why don’t you stay with me for the rest of the night? I’ll chase away any nasty dreams of yours.” Mugs replied and Cuphead shuffled under the covers, grateful for the calming pulses of healing magic Mugs had been pushing through him the whole time. After a few more minutes, Cuphead’s grip loosened and his eyes grew heavy. Not five minutes after that, he was asleep, but in the presence of the Lady, no dreams, good or bad, got to him for the rest of the night.

\---0---0---0---

               The brothers ate breakfast and then got to work. They asked around the inn’s guests and the various townspeople about what had been going on. As it turned out, the entire town had suddenly found itself experiencing an increase of dreams, or more specifically, nightmares. Those that were affected staggered around, heavy bags or other signs of fatigue clear on their figures. It took them the entire day to get a clear idea of what was happening and how widespread it truly was. The next two hours, and the remaining daylight hours, were spent trying to figure out what was causing it. They had found no signs of a curse, no signs of a hostile demon or beast in town. Not even a cranky biddy in a house on the outskirts. They returned to the inn, confused, but determined to not fail.

               They would have continued late into the night, but Cuphead was far too tired.  Mugs decided it was more wise to push the beds together in case Cuphead had another bad dream. The two got ready for sleep, Mugs taking note of the low and bright star. He paused in the middle of unlacing the corset and squinted, leaning closer to the glass, trying to get a better look at the glinting star. He thought it odd that the star was now red, rather than the white it had been the night before. He filed that knowledge away for the next day and closed the curtains, shuffling over to the bed. As soon as he settled, he felt his brother scoot back until their backs touched, and within fifteen minutes, the two were asleep.

\---0---0---0---

               Cuphead couldn’t remember what dream he had, but instead of waking up feeing refreshed, he felt even more tired. He struggled to keep his eyes open, even when he felt his sibling stir and shift into a sitting position. He was fairly certain, based on the quick pulsing of his soul, whatever he had dreamt was horrible, and through the haze of exhaustion he felt glad that he simply couldn’t figure out what had happened in the hell that was his dreams. He felt two hands gently shake his shoulder and gave out a weak hum. His eyes slid shut once more, despite his attempts, and he suddenly grew worried that Mugs would have to go out alone. He laid still while the Lady called his name in worry, then, a massive wave of energy crashed through him and he snapped up, the blanket falling down and Mugs jolting back, falling clear off the side of the bed with a surprised shout. Inkwell continued pouring energy into him via the connection point he had with it, and he let out a deep sigh of relief.

               “You did that on purpose, and I will get revenge later on.” He heard his brother mutter from below, one leg sticking into the air and the other flopping onto the bed. Cuphead snickered and Inkwell breezed out a laugh.

\---0---0---0---

               Lady Mugs was a force of nature that morning. He’d gotten ready faster than Cuphead had ever seen and had stormed the inn as it were. Darting around and asking the other guests questions about the night before. He hadn’t even paused to let Cuphead catch up, so Inkwell helpfully kept the Knight well up to date about what poor soul had gotten Mugs attention. Cuphead had had to physically drag his ‘Lady on a mission’ to a bakery so Mugs would get something to eat. Even while being dragged away by his handle he’d still been asking the rather confused but clearly sleep deprived snake blacksmith questions.

               “I don’t like this, brother. You shouldn’t have had to get Inkwell’s help just to get out of bed.” Mugs said, tossing a grape into his mouth and playing around with another still on the stem. Cuphead leaned back against the wall beside his sibling and gave a thoughtful hum in response. The Knight looked over the crowds of people all strolling, or shambling, by. He noted that it seemed like it wasn’t just the inn that was affected, but perhaps it was affected the most. Today was going to be more digging for possible hints and tips, and Cuphead was not looking forward to the likely outcome of little help and resigned himself to a long day of guesswork. Mugs sent him a sympathetic smile, finished off the bundle of grapes quickly, and they headed into the crowds.

\---0---0---0---

               Surprisingly, the first person they talked to, the librarian of the town, had a very solid clue. They had mentioned how an old building in the old town had shown signs of life recently. It was an observatory that had once been the center of the town the two were in, but had fallen into disrepair when all the mages and scholars there vanished; or fled, in a single night. According to the historic records the librarian had read, no one quite knew what caused it. Not even the Lady and Knight at the time had been able to figure out what had happened.

               It was no surprise then, that the town had quickly decided to take a collective side step away from the building and had even more quickly rebuilt quite a ways away. The ruins of the old town still remained however, but anyone that wandered in didn’t come back out. Especially if they wandered in after the sun was down or thought to use the old buildings for shelter. Thus, when lights and sounds had been heard in the old observatory from travelers and curious observers, the librarian had assumed that whoever was in there wouldn’t last long. That had been weeks ago and the person, or thing, was still in the decrepit domed building. Not only that, but it was right around the time of the uptick in activity that the town started experiencing problems sleeping. Already five in the town had died in their sleep, and three had fallen over, dead from an apparent lack of sleep.

               The two brothers had gazed in the direction the librarian pointed, and sure enough, in the sunlight, they could see the glint of something glass far into the distance, touching the horizon. They thanked the pen and started for the direction of the old observatory. A stable owner had been more than glad to lend them a horse, claiming their workers were all being affected and if it would bring the stable back up to shape, they could use as many horses as they needed. So away the Lady and Knight went, the paint horse underneath them swiftly cutting the travel time in half.

\---0---0---0---

               The entire town was eerie in a way neither sibling had seen yet. It almost looked frozen in time, with how much was still left in the streets and houses. The horse had gotten far too nervous and had been left at the edge of town where it grazed on a patch of grass. Cuphead had joked about how if they had had one of those new motorized automobiles, they could have cruised through the streets of a ghost town. Mugs had let out a snort and joked

               “Why? To show the ghosts what they’re missing? Show off to a bunch of corpses? ‘look what you’re missing fella’s! You too could have this if only you hadn’t keeled over when you did!’ “ Mugs spoke exactly how a salesman they’d heard on the streets talk, and the brothers both laughed. When one spent a childhood in graveyards, ghost towns didn’t really have much in the way of scare factor. They walked through the empty streets, peeking into doorways and taking quick searching trips through some of the buildings. The observatory loomed ever closer, blotting out the mid-day sun and casting a wide shadow over the empty streets.

               The buildings were almost in a living state, furniture and trinkets still fully decorating the homes and shops. It was fairly obvious the librarian had skimped on the fact that the townsfolk didn’t just hop skip out of nopesville, but flat out bolted. Whatever happened must have happened fast, and must have either wiped the memories of the town or laid dormant long enough for the town to forget. Since it was the librarian who had been the one to tell them, they assumed it was the latter. That, and based on the sheer amount of decay and natural growth on all of the buildings. The question then, was what woke up, or what had taken residence in the observatory. Inkwell had little clue, and had simply sent reassuring gusts of wind every now and then. A massive chunk of land had little need to pay attention to one tiny town after all, that’s what the Lady and Knight were for.

               Though the town was brightened by the sun, the Lady noted that there were numerous echoes of fear, regret, hatred, and sorrow. Which often meant that ghosts or corpses would be nearby, and in abundance. Which, considering they’d likely need to bring back a few to ask questions, they decided was a good thing. The more willing a soul was to answer the Lady’s call, the less energy the Lady would have to expend, and Mugs had been doing more healing and reviving than usual. Not to mention it hadn’t been long enough to recharge from pouring so much energy into Goopy Le Grande twice, the land the farmers owned, and his brother. Cuphead, already running on Inkwell’s energy boost, was rather thankful. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if his Lady fainted while in the town that thus far had a killer reputation. Until they knew how the travelers and the mages in the observatory itself died, Cuphead wasn’t keen on either of them falling asleep.

               Approaching the doors of the observatory, Cuphead let out a groan, as one would upon realizing the place they needed to get into was chained up. A thick and rusted padlock connected two equally hefty chains, ensuring entrance wouldn’t be easy. So they decided to circle once to search for a possible broken window or other point of access. Cuphead decided that saving his energy shot would be the smarter option, as, with being on borrowed energy already, using more would be dangerous and just asking for it. Many of the windows had boards hastily stacked into them, giving a clue that the interior was going to be rather dark. Upon trying to remove one, they had discovered that the boards were tightly nailed into place and wouldn’t be moving any time soon. Luckily enough, along one faded and ivy covered brick wall, they discovered a window that had been smashed open, boards laying stacked against the wall below it. Even better was that it was close enough to the ground that the two could simply pull themselves up onto the window ledge and hop in. Not that Mugs didn’t wince any time his skirt caught on a stray piece of wood or glass.

               The interior, unlike the other buildings in the town, was dark, and stank of decay and stagnant magic. An almost bitter smell that stung their noses and didn’t make the smell of death any more pleasant. Lady Mugs spent a couple minutes dusting off his skirt while Sir Cuphead tried to find something to light their way. The broken door leading out of the small storage room they had crawled into showed only pitch black beyond the reach of the sunlight peeking through the window behind them. It was plainly obvious that the building had been more of a school with an observatory attached, as the last observatory they had been to hadn’t been so large or elaborate. Finally, Cuphead managed to find a torch, which, without a way to light it wasn’t as useful as it seemed. Next to the torch however, there was a lantern. Lady Mugs quickly covered his laughter rather poorly with a cough into one hand.

               With lighted lantern in hand, Cuphead led the way into the darkened building. Sooner rather than later, they ran into their first corpse. The half rotted body laid slumped against a wall, as if the person had been walking and just given up and a quick breather had turned into a last breath. Strangely enough, not ten feet away, another corpse laid sprawled out, clearly having been mid-step when sleep had hit the bird. Sending a quick pulse through the building, Mugs grew nervous.

There were far more bodies than either of them anticipated, almost like the building, which was also larger if the pulse was anything to go by, acted as a mausoleum now. Ladies didn’t have full control over how many they resurrected, just how large the affected area would be, and though he’d been trained like the Lady’s before him, he was still young and didn’t have total control quite yet. Mugs had the rather awful habit of bringing back more than needed, if the three graveyards and four tombs had been anything to go by in his younger years. They were already in the building, and there was no chance that Mugs was going to back out from fear of bringing back too many and accidentally draining himself to the point that Inkwell would flip a cutoff and Mugs would faint to prevent backlash from over expenditure.

               They maneuvered through the building, trying to get a feel for the place and see if they could find the source of the bodies. Sometimes the rooms stank far too much for either sibling to be willing to go into, and sometimes the wooden floor would creak loudly with warning or bend the way no floor ever should. The brothers stuck close and stepped carefully over bones and, even more worryingly, fresh bodies. The lantern light flickered every once in a while, shadows along the walls and in the dark rooms dancing, seeming to test the edges of the light, reaching for their feet and shoulders. They’d gone down two flights of stairs and had only found more rooms and stairs down the numerous labyrinth like hallways. The building was truly massive compared to its exterior, and the brothers wouldn’t be surprised if the town had been built on top of the floors they currently walked on.

               There were no windows in these areas, it was only by way of the lantern, and one other one that they’d managed to find and get to work, that they were able to see without relying on Inkwell. Not that it would be effective, being in a building like they were, especially with the air so stagnant. Most troublesome was that they had yet to reach the center of the building where the main hall and observatory would be. With the way things had been going, they’d have to hope they got out before they needed Inkwell to give them a quick boost to ensure they wouldn’t sleep. Or before the creature found them before they found it. Cuphead wasn’t overly fond of fighting tired, and Mugs wasn’t sure he’d be able to correctly keep his area of resurrection small enough in a moment of panic.

               After a few more twists and turns, and no less than twenty corpses in further states of decay, including a couple skeletons they had found, they finally reached what looked like the living quarters for the mages and scholars that had used the building long ago. Down those halls, numerous doors lined the walls. Some were open, others had only the remains of the rather thick wooden doors still attached. The darkness was almost oppressive by now, but the almost misty quality of the shadows wasn’t what caught their attention, that would go to the strange sloshing noise they heard coming from one of the rooms. Cuphead carefully peeked into the closest doorway, Mugs peeking behind him from down near his elbow. At the edge of the light, in the middle of the room, they could see a skeletal hand reaching up towards the ceiling. The two leaned a bit further in, and made out the edges of a bed, the mattress on it rotted almost entirely away and the rest of the skeleton. Despite knowing it wouldn’t move, at least not without a Lady’s touch, the two couldn’t help but be a tad unnerved. It was likely due to the fact that the hallway was completely clear of any bodies. Taking a peek into another room across the hall only just cemented that every body they found was inside the rooms. Thus implying that the people down here never had the chance to even begin to escape.

               They, rather poorly, tried to quietly make their way down the hall, freezing when they could no longer hear the sloshing sound ahead of them. The yellow light of the lanterns flickered and between one flicker and the next, something down the way, in one of the doors on the very edge of the light, moved. Mugs lightly grabbed his siblings sleeve and shifted a bit closer. No amount of being used to reviving the dead could ever truly knock the ‘something-isn’t-right’ reaction out.

Cuphead eased along the wall, trying to stick to the sides where doors were closed to minimize the risk of something reaching out from a doorway and grabbing at them. Upon reaching the doorway where movement had been seen, Cuphead ducked lower and sprang into the room, hoping to surprise whatever had been in there. Lady Mugs kept at the doorway, out of any direct line of sight in the room, and waited for whatever was going to happen. Nothing happened, not even when Cuphead lightly kicked a skull under the rotten and dust covered desk at the opposite end of the room. Lady Mugs let out a quiet breath of relief,  that is, until he felt something brush the ends of his gown behind him.

               Mugs turned his head slowly, without moving his body, and froze when the lantern light caught on something metallic. If he had a throat, it would have been sealed tight at that moment. A deep gurgling breath washed over his exposed shoulders and he stopped thinking. His body twisted, his hand came up, the one holding the lantern, and it smashed against the thing behind him. Cuphead spun back around at the sound and caught sight of the metal being stumble back away from Mugs. Black bands around its eyes, or the one that was left, shriveled though it was, squinted down in mute pain. Cuphead cleared the three steps between him and his brother in one giant lunge and yanked Mugs away from the creature. A crack in the floor caused him to let go and stumble backwards.

 The dented canteen being sloshed violently as its’ near rusted out legs wobbled and sent it shambling forward. One arm reached out and grabbed a loose tie on Mugs gown, unraveling the knot. The other arm managed to snag the skirt itself and it leaned back. Its’ dinner plate sized mouth screeched open and chunky pitch black tar poured out. Mugs, in a moment of panic, lost focus, and green and yellow lightning rained down around them, all throughout the hallway, and even on a couple floors above and below.

               Cuphead really _did_ let out a curse as the sounds of the dead being revived covered the surprised and confused gurgle the canteen let out. He barely had time to pull Mugs from its grip before the full dead weight of the Lady fell into him and  he staggered back as Mugs lost consciousness. He felt Inkwell let out a startled rumble and felt a wave of its’ energy take over the resurrection, ensuring that despite the Lady fainting, the dead stayed revived. A skeleton missing an arm threw itself at the canteen creature, its bones alight with a barely visible green glow. Another one missing its’ legs latched onto the canteens right leg and the canteen toppled over. Cuphead quickly tried to drag his limp brother away from the battle, pleading for his sibling to wake up so he wouldn’t have to lug him back up the stairs.

               The lantern clattered to the ground and rolled towards the canteen being dogpiled under more and more skeletons or even half rotted corpses. The ones that had enough of a throat all screamed in rage and made rather painful promises of what they were going to do to the thing. Cuphead could only assume they had found the cause of all the nightmares, guessing the canteen was what was left of a necromancy experiment gone wrong. He figured the tar coming out of its mouth had infected the water supply of the building and had inflicted the people with horrid nightmare inducing poison.

But he was far more concerned with getting his brother to the staircase behind him, uncaring of the lack of light and using Inkwell and the after image of the hallway to guide himself. He almost let out a scream when the slightly glowing mottled green flesh covered skull of one of the dead popped around the corner and the corpse gestured for him to put the Lady in the room right beside the stairwell. Cuphead decided listening to the dog was his best option and leaned Mugs against the wall furthest from the door.

               Turning and dashing back out, he left his brother to be guarded by the dog and went to help the now hall full of the dead with the canteen. If the creature was causing the problem, it needed to be put down. Had it been sentient enough to understand him and hadn’t tried to hurt his Lady and brother, he’d be more inclined to try and listen to it. It wasn’t, so it got the full force of his wrath. He was tired, his brother was out like a light in an area known for killing those that slept, and he had no lantern light anymore. He was not a happy camper, but he did know that tearing the thing apart would make him feel better. The dead parted for him where they could, the ones that were trying to tear the canteen apart simply ignored him. He wasn’t the Lady, thus, they only listened or cared enough to face him for a few seconds before returning to what they were doing.

               The canteen let out an ungodly screech that shook the floors and rattled Cuphead all the way down through his armor. It thrashed and slammed its’ fists down, shattering bones and tearing skulls off their bodies. But what it gave, the corpses returned twice over, angrily ripping the things left leg clean off and smacking it upside the head with the limb. It was a mish-mash of movement and sound and at some point something stepped onto the lantern, cracking the glass and putting the light out entirely. In the next moment however, the electric lighting of the building flared up and the lightbulbs that lined the hall blinked wearily to life. The least rotted corpse of the group moved its hand off the light switch and one piece of its remaining eyebrow moved up in pleased surprise. Cuphead, in that one second, was suddenly so glad his brother was out, because if Mugs had still been awake, despite the situation, he’d have laughed at Cuphead for not thinking to hit the light switches.

               A skull sailed by his head, a disgruntled expression somehow on its face despite having only tiny pieces of flesh. The green glow of the skeleton faded, not that it was bright anyway, and it returned to just being a corpse. Cuphead decided at that moment to dive into the fray and planted one boot on the side of the canteen’s face while grabbing the right arm in his hands and he pulled. With his efforts combined with those of three other skeletons, the arm let out a screech of metal and tore clean off at the shoulder. Cuphead stumbled back but was caught by two other half rotted corpses. The canteen let out another head splitting shriek and the tar started pouring out of it in thick, lump filled streams. One stray swing of the other limb Cuphead was trying to reach and tear off as well caught him on the chest and he lost his breath. The armor on him didn’t let much else happen, and while he was sure he’d be feeling that in the morning, he’d simply shrugged it off and went back to work.

               It took tearing off the other arm and viciously stomping the head, denting it until his foot went right through and his boot sank into the skull, to make the thing go still.  It let out a soft gurgle, and a clear liquid trickled out of its tear ducts, then, it made no more noise. The resurrected corpses all let out sounds of celebration, or in the case of the skeletons, rattled instead. Cuphead let out a large sigh of relief, then turned to get back to his brother. He cared very little for the thick brain matter now clinging to his boot. So, with one step letting out a squelching sound and the other a tapping noise, he navigated around the cheering skeletons and prayed to Inkwell that his brother would be fine.

 As he entered the room, his brother groaned and Mugs hands went up to clutch at his head. The Lady of Inkwell slowly regained his senses and looked around, taking in the rotten dog reaching out a paw to help him up. Giving the dog a weak thank you, Lady stood and stumbled into Cuphead’s waiting arm. The dog nodded, torn throat unable to make any sound, and laid back down. It, and those outside, lost their glow a minute later, and ceased all movement.

               “Cuphead? There are lights.” Mugs said in a whisper, the quiet and once more still air around them seemed unaffected by the sound, not even carrying an echo.

               “Yeah, turns out, the town bailed so quickly, they forgot to turn off the electricity.” Cuphead replied.

               “I see that. Do you think, that if we’d known, this place would have been less creepy?” Mugs asked, finally standing up straighter and going to fix his dress.

               “With how many corpses there are in here? Nah, it would just be well lit _and_ creepy.” Cuphead didn’t bother to keep his voice down, though he did keep his tone light. Fainting from overworking a mass resurrection was never fun, but the last time Cuphead had doted on his brother, five at the time, he’d gotten a kick in the shin for ‘being too worry-warty’. Mugs gratefully used his brother as a support and the two exited the room.

               “I don’t want to have to go all the way back upstairs.” Mugs told his Knight, both looking at the staircase.

               “I don’t think asking Inkwell to make us a faster way out is a good idea Mugs.”

               “I know. I don’t like it, but I know, did you—oh.” Mugs finally caught sight of the black covered boot and grimaced. That answered his question on the status of the thing he’d smacked with the lantern.

               “Mugs, did you have any bad dreams while you were out?” Cuphead asked as they slowly heaved themselves up the stairs. Mugs was regaining the slight blue flush normally dusting his cheeks and the edge of his handle, which was a good sign.

               “No, it was just like every other time I go too far, I got scolded something fierce by Inkwell though.” Mugs answered back, and though he sounded more energetic now, he still leaned on his sibling. The two remained relatively quiet, making some remarks here or there while they got back to the window they had exited out of, and let out twin groans of relief at the sight of the sunlight pouring through. Though, it was now the orange color of sunset, meaning they had been in the building for half of the day. Despite the fact that they had taken care of the thing causing the bad dreams, likely by infecting the stream that led to the town down the way, they didn’t want to linger in the old town any longer than needed. Their horse was still where they had left it on the outskirts, and they rode back to town, Cuphead in particular looking forward to a good nights rest.

               After returning the horse, and apologizing for the gross tar on its’s saddle, the two made their way back to the inn. It was almost past sunset by that time, the light of dusk just a sliver on the edge of the horizon. After eating a quick meal and cleaning off his armor as best he could, Cuphead retired to bed. Mugs chose to stay up a bit longer, and as Mugs was handing the stained dress to Inkwell, he looked out across the horizon, and at the star resting just above it.

               The star was a bright, almost angry red.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gee well that ain't good. Golly gosh I sure do hope the two managed to best the thing causing the bad dreams and not just piss it off!


	6. Camping trips and bears.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst part about living on a land so full of weird shit, and being so close to the afterworld, is that zombies and grotesque sights are a common occurrence.

It was the week of the nature walk in Dice’s school. Where every class was sent off with a teacher to practice their magic and test their survival knowledge. Not survival in terms of eating and what not, but knowing which creatures were more likely to squash a wandering traveler like a bug. The school took special pains to ensure every student was well aware of the various dangers out in the wild of Inkwell. Normal countries beyond the two rivers that split Inkwell from the mainland only had to deal with bears and really, really big lizards. Denizens of Inkwell? On top of giant ‘fuck off’ sized hell beasts of various states of living, they had dragons and gremlins and even the very dirt under their feet to consider. The beast of the bunch though, was the Phantom Express. Rumors had it that the train that ferried the dead around Inkwell and to and from the afterlife had managed to kill two Ladies in the past. Now while that wasn’t that terrifying, as many things could, including a very dedicated fish. What was terrifying was it had never received a punishment from Inkwell, and that made _everyone_ nervous

               No one knew where that thing’s tracks were, as the tracks always changed up location and vanished with the train that traveled on it. When King Dice expressed a hint of nervousness about the thing, not fond of massive speeding vehicles with a penchant for flipping off not only magic but tradition as well, Devil had laughed.

               “That diva? Oh please, darling, I once used that thing to get around faster. If you ain’t on its schedule, it won’t even come near you. Besides, you got me!” Devil posed, his fur puffed up and his tail swayed confidently behind him. King Dice’s unimpressed stare didn’t even phase him. Few things had after King had embarrassingly enough gushed over how cool Devil’s shape shifting was.

               “Uh, Mr. Devil?” the roommate spoke up from the doorway to the kitchen. King Dice knew what they were about to say, and decided to break the news to Devil before his dumbass roommate could let the baddest bitch in hell know in a shitty way.

               “Why good sir, I do  believe you forget you aren’t contracted to me. It’s my roommate you’re attached to. They aren’t coming with me because we aren’t in the same class. They’ll be going in an entirely different direction and you have to stay near them.” King Dice said in a tone that _could_ have been taken as apologetic had it not been for the clearly unimpressed tilt to his head. Devil immediately lost all his regular grin and gained the look of a drunkard too short to reach the last bottle of whiskey. Which was impressive to King Dice, he thought one would have to be drunk to have such a look of stupid determination.

               “Oh, oh I’ll find a way to be with ya.” Devil said, and King knew exactly what Devil was going to try, so, throwing caution to the wind he slammed his hands on the table in front of him, and stood.

               “Lord of Sin, if you _dare_ threaten the school one more time I will find a way to banish you.” King Dice had not really ever taken such a dark tone with Devil but sweet fuck there was a three strike policy and if Devil pulled that stunt, King would be forced out. He didn’t put in two years of effort, blood, sleepless nights, and abstinence from alcohol just to be kicked out because of a sinful beast. A small part of him, therefore, wasn’t surprised when Devil was suddenly in his face, horns snapping and growing in a terrifying curl. King Dice was very aware of a gnashing mouthful of teeth that would easily break his head apart, bone china base or no.

               “King, you ain’t _threatening me, **are you?**_ ” Devil spoke in such a way that it sounded like multiple people were speaking all at once. His usual decent rumbling tone so dark King Dice was entirely certain the very light in the apartment was hauling ass out the room. King Dice, however, had the steadfast lack of fucks that every student gained after a certain point. He returned the Devil’s wide eyed snarling grin with a vicious glare of his own. Out the corner of his eye he watched his roommate slowly arm themselves with a pan lid.

               “Yes, I am. You can either find a way to come with me _without threatening others_ or I will figure out  a way to kick you out.” The tension was thick enough that the roommate had started climbing backwards out the kitchen window as quietly as they could. Suddenly, Devil perked up and his default form came back.

               “Oh I know _just_ the thing! I might be stuck with that roommate of yours, but my lackeys ain’t!” Devil’s tail cracked like a whip on the floor and a ring appeared where it hit. King Dice let out a groan at the new mark on his carpet and at the prospect of dealing with one of Devil’s idiot brigade. He was even less amused when a tall woman with a roulette wheel for a ballerina type skirt rose from the flames. She had a dignified air about her and peeked out at him from under long brass lashes.

               “This here is Pirouletta, she’ll accompany you and chase off any ill meaning sorts.” Pirouletta gave him a polite curtsey and King Dice decided that she was, thus far, his favorite.

\---0---0---0---

               As it turned out, not wanting to be stuck with a very angry beast of evil, his roommate had talked to their teacher and had managed to get a slip allowing them to go with King Dice. Pirouletta stayed, on request of King Dice, she gladly showed off her dancing skills and despite the thick accent that King Dice couldn’t place, he could clearly understand her and her stories. He didn’t say it, but he really just wanted her to stay because the idea of riding in a carriage with a crunched in Devil, grumpily staring at whoever happened to sit across from him, was so unappealing he had considered just packing his head into a suitcase and riding that way.

               A student towards the back let out a quiet cough, Devil snarled at them. The student started crying. King Dice resolutely stared at Pirouletta.

\---0---0---0---

               Upon learning that summoning would be part of the week long practice, Devil got antsy. King Dice’s roommate was exempt, considering it was rather obvious they were proficient in that regard. Pirouletta helpfully offered to teach him how to summon her if he wanted to, and he took her up on the offer. Once Devil learned of this, he calmed down so quickly, King Dice grew suspicious. As the summoning part was the last thing that was going to happen on the trip, he decided to worry more once that day was closer. As it stood, he was currently trying to help his roommate set up a tent. It was not going well.

               “I’ll just put my head in my suitcase and sleep that way!” King Dice said, annoyed to the highest degree. A few other object types seemed to be in full agreement.

               “Or, you can sleep in my lap, I’ll keep you plenty warm.” Devil leered nudging King Dice with his shoulder. A student across the way let out a snort, another one hissed to their roommate if they really just heard the king of evil say a pick-up line. Another started putting sound dampening runes around their shoddily built and barely stable tent. King Dice flicked his eyes towards the fluffy beast and after a moment, let out a disappointed noise.

               “I’d sooner sleep on Mrs. Pirouletta’s skirt. At least there’s something on it to keep me entertained.” It was the first time King Dice had ever heard Pirouletta laugh.

\---0---0---0---

               Devil wound up sulking for a solid hour.

\---0---0---0---

               As it turned out, it didn’t take very long for the first creature to find them, or rather, pack of creatures. It was likely due to the sheer noise his class had been making. He had noted the teacher quickly hauling ass up a tree near their camp and decided to pay more attention. His roommate quickly ducked into their tent and King Dice noted a shimmering barrier now around it. The creatures that shuffled and darted into their camp were fortunate and unfortunate at the same time. Fortunate in that a few of the faster half rotted lizard beasts got a couple chunks out of some of the students close to the border. Unfortunate in that they picked the one group with the literal Devil in it. Funnily enough, while they avoided going near him, he didn’t move to take them down either. In fact, he almost looked bored, he had been looking bored ever since he stopped sulking. King Dice decided that his chat with Pirouletta would have to wait.

               Of course, that was around the exact second when a shimmering beast, a shape shifting sort, launched at King Dice. It got about halfway over to him before a shapely leg whipped out and sent it splattering against a tree. The tree itself toppled over onto another one near Devil. Pirouletta went into a rapid spin and the blood on her leg slid off. If King Dice gave an admiring sigh, ever weak to good dance forms, only the Devil took note, and he simply filed it away to learn more about later. He politely thanked her and she gave a tiny smile in return, still spinning, although not as rapidly. A few well placed spells here and there and the camp was cleared and cleanup/healing began. The teacher shuffled back down, muttering something about not being paid enough to deal with kids these days.

\---0---0---0---

               It was quite late into the day, after dinner, that Devil nudged King Dice’s shoulder and wrapped his tail around one of King’s thighs.

               “Ey,” he spoke quietly, King Dice gave an answering hum. “I didn’t see you break out any spells during that scuffle. Did you forget you can do magic? Or did ya think Pirouletta would keep ya safe.” Devil let out a playful gasp and leaned closer to King Dice’s face.

               “Did you think I’d come to your rescue~? My de-“ A white gloved finger gently pressed onto Devil’s lips and he paused. King Dice gave him a coy grin, his eyes began to glow an eerie neon green that illuminated his long and dark lashes. King Dice held a hand out in front of him, and a small pink die snapped into existence.

               “Sweet Devil, my magic is far different from my classmates.” King Dice’s voice took on a smooth, almost flirtatious tone. “Maybe I’ll even let you roll one day and find out what I can do. You can,” King Dice leaned closer, his lips only separated from the Devil’s by his finger, still in place. “test your fate with a roll.” With that, the pink die vanished, his eyes lost their glow, and King Dice stood up and dusted off his pants. A few nearby students noticed how Devil had gone ramrod straight and yet limp at the same time, his back slumped and his tail lifeless, but his eyes sharp and his arms tense. As King Dice started to leave, he gave one last suave glance at Devil out the corner of his eye.

               “But if you want a roll, you’ll have to impress me first. Good luck~.” With that, King Dice sauntered back to his shared tent.

               “Is it just me or is the Devil drooling.” A student hissed as quietly as they could to a fellow student beside them. Pirouletta reached across the empty spot and gently pressed her bosses mouth closed with one finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the actual gameplay, I got to thinking about how King Dice's magic works. I'll go into more details as the chapters go by, so no use trying to explain it here! As a side note, I firmly believe that whatever relationship the devil and his manager have, it isn't an abusive one at all.


	7. A surprising lack of violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are downsides to draining from a child created by and for the Land you walk on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I got distracted by drawing a lot for this story. Hilariously enough, I find it easier to draw for this one than the other. As it were, let's begin.

             The first thing Cuphead saw was a field torn asunder and countless dead scattering the shredded remains of the once pristine scene. His mind jolted into high gear and he twisted to look around. What the Knight didn’t expect was for his legs to give out. He collapsed, landing on a corpse which clanged when his exposed chainmail hit it. He could suddenly pick up screaming, it was his brother. Mugs was being pinned down by a massive beast, steam pouring from its’ far too large mouth. Cuphead tried to rise up, only for two metal arms to swing up and lock around his torso. He felt something open up near his knees, and then there was a crunch. He only realized it was from his own leg being devoured by whatever he was laying on when he heard his own screaming join his brothers.

               He tried to twist out of the grip, but something grabbed his head and yanked it from the link holding it to his body and he was smashed into the ground. His vision wavered for only a second, and then went dark.

\---0---0---0---

               Everything was far too bright suddenly and Cuphead desperately wished it would go back to being dark. Thankfully, he felt Inkwell sending soothing wave after soothing wave, and then the light dimmed. He was standing next to a thankfully perfectly healthy-looking Lady who was merrily talking to him while eating what looked like a popsicle. He realized he had one in his own hand and gave it a wary lick. They were in the town again, and people were strolling by, chatting away, filling the air with a happy vibe. This, Cuphead decided, was far better than the previous dreams he’d had.

               That is, until he noticed the sensory info coming in from Inkwell. A look of pure horror growing on his face, he slowly turned his head and really looked at the current gown. It was not a gown. The knight saw his brother’s legs clearly, not a single thing covering from above the knee’s down to the heels. The sheer tights did nothing to hide the white porcelain legs. Even worse, the parts that were covered were covered only by ruffles that rose even further up and exposed a bit of his Lady’s lower thigh. Not only that, but Cuphead could see his brothers’ bare arms, hell, even his back was partially exposed. Mercifully though, there was a wall behind them. Which then turned out to be a window, and Cuphead felt a scream build. Every tensing muscle and eager intention directed at the Lady of Inkwell, he knew, he felt, he _got full blast._

               He vaguely felt the popsicle in his hand slip and fall to the ground and heard his brother question his abrupt lack of movement. He swore he had blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew he was screaming and bodily tossing his brother into some nearby bushes to the side of them. Then he was drawing his sword, leaping onto the ledge they’d been leaning against and his mental filter shattered.

               “Hey! That’s the Lady you sickos are eyein’ like dessert! Oi you! Yeah you, green shirt! Don’t think I don’t know your sins! I know them! I know _all of them_! For all of you nasty degenerates! Oh you try and come closer you- Do you have any idea what I can do with this sword? One step buddy, one more step and I swear I’ll put this thing so far up-“

\---0---0---0---

               It was around one blink and the next, with a sudden and rather violent scene change, that Cuphead realized he was dreaming. Pinching himself did nothing either, his body just felt numb in response. He idly wondered if stupidly flailing about here would make him flail in the waking world. But then he realized that meant he’d risk hitting his brother and he didn’t want a repeat of _the incident_. He took in his surroundings, once more noting that his brother wasn’t in his immediate sight and heaved out a sigh.

               He was in a home it seemed, there was a wooden sword on the wall, various pictures scattered about, a fire merrily crackling away. It all seemed very nice, and then he saw his brother. His brother, his darling younger brother whom he’d been raised with, his brother who was wearing short shorts, and a plain black shirt. He would have said something, anything, but then his barely dressed brother shook his shoulders and spoke desperately.

               “Cuphead what are you doing? We can’t just stand here! We’ve got to get going! We only have until midnight tomorrow to get those souls. Or did you forget you bet our souls and _lost_?” Cuphead looked down, not believing his sight was correct the first time, and saw he too was wearing short shorts. The same shorts he’d been able to wear as a child in between wearing armor. He calmly put his hands over his brothers, gave him quite the scolding expression, and spoke with a stern voice.

               “Mugs… first of all, you need to put on more clothing. Second of all, I’m not that dumb, and I resent that you think I’d be stupid enough to bet not only my own soul, but yours as well. Now come on, let’s find you some-“ He paused, his brother was giving him the most horrifyingly confused and insulted expression he’d ever seen. He saw his brothers hand slowly rise up into the air, and the last thing he heard was his brothers disbelieving voice.

               “ _Have you lost your mind_?!”

               Gosh, his brother had always had the meanest slap Cuphead had ever seen, and now he could safely say he’d felt it.

\---0---0---0---

               Lady Mugs looked around in confusion, he seemed to be in a dungeon of some sort. His hands were chained to the wall behind him and he couldn’t move them more than a few inches before the chain rattled and pulled taut. He whistled a short tune and listened, when there was no response, his frown deepened. Something told him odd things were going down, and it wasn’t because his brother wasn’t close enough to hear the whistle. He tested the chains again, grabbing them and lifting his feet off the ground, letting the chains take all of his weight. They held firm, so Mugs looked around for some way to escape. Of course, it was that moment he realized his skirt was not only torn up to his upper thigh, but his stockings were missing and the skirt itself looked to have been ripped clean in half. His legs from the knee down were completely bare. He couldn’t even begin to fathom the torn top drooping dangerously close to revealing his chest and the cold stone he now felt scraping on his apparently bare back.

               The door before him rattled and a shadow appeared, breaking the beam of light under the door. Mugs figured if the person was coming to kill him, it was better than living while knowing he was in what looked like a prisoner outfit gone wrong. If he could smash himself he would, anything to get away from the skimpy piece giving all dresses shame. His mother would be strangling him right now, his only recourse for regained honor would be figuring out how to get revenge for the poor fabric. The door opened, and a woman with a long nose and rose-colored skin stepped in. She had a thunderous expression contorting what could have been a friendly face. Her short hair almost seemed to be writhing on her head, and the air around her shimmered.

               The more Mugs looked at it, the more he realized her whole form was shimmering, as if she was trying to hide her true appearance. He must have spoken up, because she reared back, surprise overtaking the wrath.

               “What? No,” she said, indignantly, “I’m your judge, jury, and executioner!” He stared at her in pure confusion.

               “That is… not the expression you should be making.” She seemed to deflate a tad, realizing that, yes, he really could see through her illusions.

               “How come you and your murderer of a knight share a fear of you in short skirts. They really aren’t that bad.” The air around her stopped shimmering, and Mugs got a full and clear look at her. Her lanky frame was indeed exposed with a mid-thigh length outfit. Like what he’d seen on a circus performer.

               “It’s indecent for the Lady to show too much skin…or…porcelain. It makes me unprofessional and less effective. Mama told me if she had to have another kid because I exposed a bit too much leg she’d put me under.” Mugs replied plainly.

               “On top of that,” she continued, acting like she hadn’t heard the response, “you both fear someone showing romantic interest in you so badly it’s the third thing that popped up when I looked through. What is the reason for that?!”

               “Oh that? You can also thank our mother. After the tenth and thirteenth Lady and Knight had been caught kissing each other, despite being related and all. Also after the sixth Lady and the twelfth Knight had been so in love with others they forgot to do their jobs and got ditched by Inkwell. Look, our mother doesn’t want to have more kids and she went to pains to be sure romance would not be a reason we failed.” Apparently, what he said was so strange she had no words, and instead she just weakly nodded.

               “Please don’t make me dream about that either, I will be forced to kick you. Or show you what happens when someone invades the Lady’s mind. I’m surprised you aren’t losing it by now. Oh, Inkwell is focused on my brother. You’re attacking my brother?” Mugs grew indignant, and the room around them warped, much to the woman’s greater confusion.

               “Well yes, he murdered my dear thrall, do you have any idea how long I’ve had him? He made the best tea!” She exclaimed, then stormed over, the drab stone room snapped back into focus as she used her slight height advantage to loom over him.

               “So, you can bet I’m going to put him into the dirt too, him and everyone else in this town. A girl’s gotta eat after all. Oh, where are my manners.” She leaned even closer, Mugs didn’t move in response.

               “The name’s Hilda Berg, dream eater and star traveler. If you survive and get out in time, you can spread the word. Though, I doubt you wi-HRK” Though not trained for combat, Lady Mugs had been raised by a woman who refused to risk another child so greatly she’d gone to pains raising a Lady who could at least defend themselves a tad. As such, the two feet he planted into her abdomen as hard as he could, sent her flying back, crashing into the wall that flickered and faded. The world turned black, with only him and Hilda Berg illuminated. She wheezed against the floor and barely managed to avoid the heel stomping down where her neck would have been. She sank into the floor at the last second and reappeared a few yards away from the enraged Lady.

               “You think for one second, that I won’t use everything Inkwell gave me if you make me have to raise my brother back from the dead you’re going to wish for a death you’ll never see.” Mugs bit out. She puffed her chest up and barked out a laugh.

               “Are you kidding? I’m one dream away from ending him. I’ll drain him so dry, your magic won’t even be _able_ to revive him.” With that, she vanished from his mind and he woke up facing his brother. He noted the yellow appearance and the weak breaths and immediately pulled his heavier sibling up so they leaned shoulder to shoulder. Then, he bent his straw so it dipped into Cuphead’s soul liquid, let a bit of his own rise up to meet his brothers, and his world went dark once more. Inkwell latched onto the line of magic and began tracing it. It had no problem finding the twit that thought messing with its’ children was a good idea.

\---0---0---0---     

Cuphead didn’t open his eyes to a forest, instead, he found himself in a cave. He let out a groan, already knowing exactly where the nightmare was heading. He debated whether he should just stay where he was, but it seemed that despite being more aware of it being a dream, he still had no control of his body. He sought to just speed things along instead, reasonably confident that since the real-life version of this ended well, the dream version would follow. Strangely enough, halfway through the trek, he lost the ability to see and Inkwell cut off all communication with him again. Even more strange was how angry it had gotten a split second before it was cut off entirely.

               Now unnerved, he broke into a light jog, his swords clinking against his sides. He made the turns and slipped here and there in the ooze but didn’t slow down, using his hand and memory to guide him instead. As he grew closer to the entrance of the cavern, he realized he had yet to hear Mugs call out for him like before. Turning the last corner, it was only by years of reflex training and a determined father that he dodged a swing from what looked like an axe. He back flipped away and reached for swords that weighed far more than they did a moment ago.

 A bolt of horror tore through him upon realizing he’d nearly drawn his weapon on his sibling. Even more horrifying was how wrong his little brother was. Rather than the bright snowy white he was born with, Mugs was an obsidian black, his usual vivid cobalt blue eyes were darker, mottled with black and violet. His dress, the same green one from the incident, was torn all the way up to his thigh and the crinoline wires were warped, as if shredded along with the gown. When his brother straightened, Cuphead finally noticed the soul liquid, normally a transparent white with splashes of baby blue, was black and green.

               Cuphead reached out to his brother in horror, if Mugs’ soul liquid was so different, someone had gotten something into his head and stained Mugs soul. His brother swayed for a moment, as if unable to stand straight, and came at Cuphead again. His movements were stiff, and his expression blank. Cuphead panicked and dodged the swing, reaching to snag the axe out of his warped siblings grip, but his foot hit a patch of goo and down he went.  The warped Lady locked up for a moment after the axe crashed into the wall, then whirled around and raised the axe once more. Only then did the blank expression turn to one of hate. Behind the warped Lady, Cuphead watched Goopy appear from the shadows, a cruel grin on his face.

               Before Mugs could swing down at the frozen Knight, a pearly white gloved hand darted out and snagged the handle on the warped Lady’s head. His Lady, bright white in the dim glow stepped out, an enraged expression on his face. His Lady and true brother twisted, and **_yanked_**. The warped one let out a surprised gasp right before his head was yanked off his shoulders and smashed into the wall. Lady Mugs bright red gown flared up with the motion in a halo of fire, somehow untouched by the stained soul liquid splattered on the wall. Mugs lifted one hand and wiped a bit of the black ooze off his face.

               “ _You_ _unbelievably rude, indecent **circus reject**_.” Lady Mugs bit out, tossing the remains of the handle down onto the fading corpse. Barely a moment later Mugs twirled back around and dropped next to Cuphead.

               “Brother, it wasn’t that canteen that was doing it but Inkwell and I-“

               “That was so cool! Holy mercy above!” Cuphead gushed, quickly getting to his knees and grabbing his brother by the shoulders. Honestly, Cuphead sometimes forgot that he and his Lady had been raised by a woman that had thrown the ‘lady never raises her hand’ rule clear out the window. Though that could be because Mugs still chose to hang back during fights as, while he was better at defending himself, he hadn’t spent his life learning how to fight. Mugs gave him a bright smile and pat the hand on his left shoulder.

               “Thank you, but really, you should wake up now so we can pay a visit to the sorry dream creature that thought to mess with us.” And with that, Cuphead blinked.

\---0---0---0---

               He opened his eyes to a tilted world. Movement at his side and a weight lifting off slowly, allowed him to straighten back up and look over at his brother. Mugs was in the middle of yawning and stretching, one hand pausing to pull his blue striped straw out from between their heads and shake it out. He only had a moment more to try and focus before Inkwell sent a great deal of energy to him and his brother, if the surprised jump was anything to go by. After that, barely a breath later, he was getting details and a location for where he should direct his wrath. The fact that Mugs had needed a jolt too told him the dream demon had gone after his brother. The brothers looked at each other, and mirrored a determined nod.

\---0---0---0---

               The frantic re-dressing and dash through the town to take a startled horse from the stables was almost comical. The horse charged through the plains, eating up the distance between the new town and the old one easily. While they charged through the night, the Lady told his Knight all he knew about their enemy. Inkwell supplied some other cursory information, namely, that she had been gone from the building as soon as the sun hit the glass of the telescope. Which meant they needed to get there as quickly as possible. They had no idea how she vanished from Inkwell’s soil but they only had a few hours before sunrise and didn’t fancy giving her more time to relocate.

               “I thought dream creatures fed off of any sort of dream, why would she only give negative ones?” Cuphead questioned out loud. Mugs paused from retying Cuphead’s brigandine, making the knot tighter and less likely to fall apart.

               “I think it’s because nightmares give more energy faster? She could just be greedy. Whatever her reason, I’m sure she’ll either tell us in a dramatic way or we’ll simply never know. Do you think we should put her down permanently?” Mugs asked him and Cuphead hummed.

               “Well we both know Inkwell wants blood, but maybe if she makes good on a promise to stop antagonizing the people, we might be able to let her live. Though we’re absolutely going to knock her around a bit. The nightmares she gave me are unforgivable.” Mugs sent him a sympathetic smile and then focused on the path ahead of them. The gleaming star, now clearly the telescope, shined with a deep and bright red light. Mugs noted a few splashes of blue in it as well. He got the distinct feeling they were about to have a fight that would be just shy of ‘painfully intense’. But if that Hilda thought for one second the Lady wasn’t going to return fire twice as hard, she was in for a bigger shock than finding her thrall’s corpse.

\---0---0---0---

               The town was far different at night. The buildings were no longer devoid of life and the two could see stray corpses wandered about. Lady was insulted to realize it was a touch of his magic on the shambling denizens and stray travelers that never got out in time. It became quite apparent that Hilda gained some abilities pertaining to the energy she drained, and the Knight groaned in exasperation. Unfortunately for Hilda, if she had believed the dead would stop them or attack, she clearly hadn’t learned enough about Lady Inkwell. In the presence of the supreme necromancer of the land, the dead either got out of his and the knight’s way, or started to follow, willing to aid the two in battle.

               “Hey Mugs? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Cuphead called out to his sibling who was keeping pace a couple feet ahead of him. Mugs waved back rather than turned, as full tilt sprinting in one-inch high kitten heels on unkempt roads was just asking for pain.

               “If she brought these fella’s back with your energy, just think about what she’s doing with mine! Even better, think about what she can’t do!” Cuphead said as the two fell under the squirming shadow of the observatory. Lady Mugs came to a rather ungraceful halt, stumbling in effort to slow down and not trip on his gown. He grabbed the skeletal hand of a bloated and rotting corpse and tugged it over to his brother’s side.

               “One way to find out eh? Okay, take a swing at my Knight.” Mugs told the corpse, Cuphead contemplated giving his brother a disbelieving glare but when the deceased traveler awkwardly shuffled and let out a whine through its remaining vocal cords, he cheered. Then he let out a disappointed groan.

               “Aw shucks, we gotta try and be diplomatic don’t we.” Cuphead whined, shuffling dejectedly over to the bolted door, drawing a line, and watching Inkwell launch the entire front entrance into the sky. Mugs gave him a less disappointed sigh.

               “Well if she’s bound by our rules, we’re bound as well. However, it is rude to keep someone waiting.” And as the pieces of the entry way rained down, a chunk of brick conking a poor deer on the antler, the two broke into a run to meet up with the person who had been antagonizing the Knight of Inkwell. The dead shuffled in after them, ready to be shields or swords for their Lady.

               While they ran through the darkened building, illuminated only by the sorry remains of the lights, Lady Mugs sent out pulse after pulse of his magic, trying to estimate how many dead had been raised. They darted past doorways and used the dead in the building to navigate, following the direction the corpses pointed. Upon passing one door leading to what looked like an aviation class from the late 1800’s, Mugs’ arm snapped out and he yanked himself to a halt then darted into the room. Sir Cuphead tried to skid to a halt, but leather boots on rot slicked floors did not aid to quick stops. There was an excited cheer from the room, a quick but small flash of green and yellow, and then his Lady reappeared, a wide grin on his face. When Cuphead saw the lumbering form appear behind his sibling, limbs apparently reattached, he gave an awkward wave.

\---0---0---0---

               Hilda was waiting for them in the central room with the telescope. She was glowing, her pink skin casting a deep red light. She was perched on a model blimp that looked almost new in the decrepit building. She herself looked entirely too smug and angry at the same time. The second she spotted Cuphead, she sneered and glared at him. It was the sight of the Lady, with a certain former Thrall trudging along behind him that truly got her to react.

Her face turned beet red and she leapt off the blimp, it swung under the force of her jump and she almost flew across the room at him. Lady Mugs froze, an unexplainable look on his face. Moments before she would have crashed into him, her body lurched to a stop midair in what the brothers decided was the most impressive instant halt they’d ever seen. She stared at him in surprise and tried to punch the slowly forming pleased grin off his face. But much like her body had, her hand stopped merely a hairs breadth from his cheek. The hulking form of her thrall let out an apologetic groan.

               “What?” She looked at him in a mix of shock, sorrow, and confusion. His less destroyed hand pushed hers away from Mugs face gently.

               “Ah, well, Miss. Hilda Berg. You made a slight mistake in drawing from either of us. Sure, you gained the ability to raise the dead, and likely sense us, but you also lost any hope at beating us too.” Mugs explained, not at all bothered being sandwiched between a corpse and an antagonist. She repeated her earlier ‘what?’ but with far more confusion than anything else. The brothers noted that she didn’t shake off the Canteen’s hold on her hand.

               “A Knight may never raise his hand at his Lady, and a Lady can never truly injure her Knight. Sibling fights are a treat I tell you, the one time I gave my brother a scratch I got chewed out by just about everyone and Inkwell didn’t talk to me for three whole days. It was an accident too! Which, now that I think about it, was probably the only reason I managed it.” Cuphead grew ponderous towards the end and looked down in thought. Hilda noted the suddenly unimpressed look on the face of the Lady and felt much of her anger turn to confusion.

               “Wait, you aren’t attacking me either. I know you want to, but you aren’t.” Though not worded as a question, it was said like one, so Mugs responded as if it had been.

               “Gosh Miss. Hilda Berg, we would love to, but like we said, we can’t attack each other, and you have our energy. So we’re all at a stalemate here. With how much energy you got from my brother, you’d be waiting a long time just to be able to take a swing.” He explained. She deflated almost comically.

               “Well if there’s one good thing about this is that we can properly chat with one another! Rather than in dreams.” She gave Mugs an indignant but resigned huff in response and lowered her hand entirely.

               “What I want to know is why you thought it was a good idea to go after me.” Cuphead spoke up from the side.

               “Easy, you were going to attack me first. I don’t fancy being stabbed a lot, kid.” She replied while putting her hands on her hips. The brothers looked at one another and then back at her, curiosity clear.

               “Miss. Hilda Berg, we only decided you needed a good punch to the face when you came after us. We were more interested in learning why you were antagonizing the town at first.”

               “That’s not what the dreams of the town depicted! They showed that one slaying ‘the demon in the town’ rather gruesomely!” Hilda snapped back, pointing accusingly at the Knight. He gave her a rather unimpressed deadpan expression.

               “Yeah? And how did they depict you in their dreams?” At that, she opened and closed her mouth a few times, and then huffed.

               “Can you two blame a girl for wanting to end a threat before it became one? If you tea cups weren’t going to attack me, what _were_ you going to do? And why did you kill my friend?”

               “We were going to ask you why you were terrorizing a town with horrible nightmares. We’d met one or two dream creatures in the castle before so we just wanted to know why you weren’t giving them good dreams instead.” Mugs explained.

               “Yeah the only reason I put that guy down was because he’d seemed entirely impossible to reason with. I mean he attacked my brother. That’s pretty much the only thing you need to do if you want to get kicked around or booted into the after life by me. Or any Knight worth their armor really.” Cuphead threw in his own two cents. Hilda let out a great sigh, her body literally deflating in the middle, then she perked back up and a cloud of stars appeared behind her and she leaned on it.

               “He was the reason I came down from the stars in the first place. He dreamed so strongly of wanting to be in the sky, soaring around, I had to respond. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how tiring it would be to get down here, and by the time I landed I was a bit too hungry. It was only because I woke back up before I killed him that he even managed to not wind up a corpse.” She gave him an apologetic smile and the Canteen creature shrugged.

               “Well after that I linked him to my own power and gave him the know-how on soaring through the clouds. Gosh when we saw the planes other places have, I got right to work copying the designs and building something that might be able to keep up with me. He is, or was, a good friend. Its not too often someone dreams so strongly of something, no amount of my power changes the dream. Besides, it was nice to have someone so enthusiastic about flying around sharing space.” By the end of her explanation she seemed to run out of steam.

               “If I’m being honest, he’s also the biggest reason I stuck around over here. It was his home and I was pretty content to get quick energy from scaring the life out of travelers and whatnot. Hell, once I found out I could revive the dead with your energy I tried to bring him back, and he didn’t respond even when others did.” She glanced at Mugs, silently asking for the cause for why she couldn’t bring back her good friend.

               “It takes a lot to bring back the dead, especially ones that don’t want to respond to my call. It’s even harder if you aren’t used to necromancy in the first place. If he didn’t want to appear, you likely aren’t trained enough to force him back.” He explained. Canteen let out an affirmative noise, and then other noises followed, as if he was trying to explain why himself.

               “If he was what was keeping you here, he probably didn’t want to return because he figured he was…grounding you.” Cuphead nudged the air beside Hilda’s arm and she was about to see if she could smack him until Canteen vigorously waved his arms up and down in agreement.

               “I can’t keep him here forever, and once I leave, he’ll return to where ever he was resting. So, in a way, if he was your reason, you have none now. So, no more antagonizing the town I guess?” Mugs finished, giving a hesitant shrug. Hilda pondered their words for a while, sometimes looking at Canteen, sometimes looking at the sky above, visible through the gaps in the telescopes gleaming metal. Finally, she stood straight, the cloud dispersing in a burst of star light and mist.

               “Sorry for going at you boy’s like I did,” She started after three minutes of silence, “I admit, I shouldn’t have taken hints from a town full of village idiots. Don’t give me that look, one of them genuinely thought I was a hideous dragon with three legs. You’re right, I’ve got no reason to be here. However, I want to give him a proper send off, and I want to give one last fright to the jerk that thought I was some kind of long nosed green witch!” The sudden fire in her eyes made Cuphead snort and Canteen give a happy gurgle.

               “Hey, I tell you what, you give that person a dream so weird and loony they wind up confused for the rest of their life, I’ll forgive you for making me dream the stuff you did.” Cuphead told her and she arched a brow, clearly noting the far friendlier air.

               “Or I could tell your brother you challenged a whole town to defend his chastity in your nightmares.” Mugs let out an unladylike snort and started laughing. Cuphead angrily flailed his arms and looked seconds away from stomping his foot but instead twisted away from them and crossed his arms over his chest.

               “But I’ll keep the other stuff tucked away and give that fella the weirdest dream I can think of. Maybe one day I’ll even help you two get over the fear of the Lady over here flashing more than an ankle.” She teased.

               At the exact same time Mugs responded with “Mama said it’s unLadylike.” Cuphead loudly exclaimed “No brother ever wants to know how many others got their nasty eyes on their younger brother, dress or no dress!”

               Hilda let out an uproarious laugh and the lingering tense air finally vanished. Inkwell quietly grabbed a rather lovely calf length dress it had been eyeing for a while, left a few gems in its place, and stashed it away for future use. It had never helped a Knight and Lady get over a fear before and was rather excited to try sometime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a joy, hilda berg isn't dead or evil! Honestly she would have no real reason to be antagonistic towards the two unless she thought they were going to be a threat first. As such, no real reason for her to attack. She'll likely be making appearances throughout this, but now that she's taken care of, my absolute favorite boss will finally make an appearance. And yes, that is a clear indication there will be no romance for the brothers at all in this. As before, as I finish the pieces I draw, I'll add them, so you can go back and take a look if you so choose. My tumblr, ephemeralmuse, is also active, though old. So if anyone wants to chat, head on over there I suppose. I'll be posting art to it that won't appear here.


	8. Lakes making waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pirouletta is learning all kinds of new things about her boss, if only cameras like today's were around at that time. The teasing the denizens of hell would bring on Devil would...well be non-existent as they ain't as lucky or important as King Dice. But the thoughts they'd have!

King Dice had finally found the worst part of the week outdoors, and it was water magic day. The students were all decked out in various bathing suits, minus a few like him and his roommate. After a rousing game of ‘defeat the giant squid trying to drag Lucy under and eat’ the teacher had allowed them a few hours of play time. King Dice not only suspected that his teacher had booze in his canteen but was certain of it. He was currently watching his apparent pet Lord of Hell merrily splash around in the form of a water serpent.  His roommate laid on a blanket beside him, ‘sunbathing’ despite having exactly as much skin showing as a nun.

               He was desperately wishing he’d not forgotten his sunglasses while trying not to be blinded every time the Devil surfaced. The bastard just _had_ to have scales now instead of fur, so of course the sunlight would catch far more easily on Devil’s body. Devil had splashed his entire class no less than fifteen times within one hour and was cackling at their attempts at retaliation. It had turned into a battle between Satan and his class and King Dice was content to sit it out. Someone like him was far too classy to splash about after all.

               Not one half second after he had thought that, a shadow loomed over him, and he heard the screams of surprise from his classmates. As he looked up, he heard his roommate whine about their tan being ruined just as a massive wave crashed into them. Pirouletta had somehow avoided being sprayed, so she was more focused on the sudden, impressive amount of wrath pouring out of her master’s potential future spouse. She carefully edged away from the man, though that proved unnecessary when the roommate leapt up, smashed a bottle of what looked like good brandy to the ground and shouted “SCATTER!”

               She and Devil watched classmates bolt in panic, confusion on the hell dwellers faces, though Pirouletta’s was quickly changing to one of alarm. King Dice dragged his hands across his face, pulling away running makeup and water alike. He stared at his water-logged gloves, stained with the remains of his favorite violet eyeshadow, and started for the waterline. Devil, who’d been afraid before, but hadn’t in a long while, laughed at King Dices’ ruined outfit. Pirouletta sent word through the shared link of all those that worked closely with the Devil that their master might cease to exist in a moment. After all, she’d done some horrifying things to Chips Bettigan and Wheezy when the thought to use her lipstick as a marker.

               King Dices eyes glowed a vivid green, and the water behind Devil lurched, almost like something had suddenly appeared underneath it. He beckoned that something forward, and a massive wave eclipsed the Devil’s form and slammed into him and he went under. Whatever had moved the water vanished before Pirouletta could see anything but a flash of what looked like a half circle game board. She wasn’t exactly focused on that however. She was more focused on how her boss would respond to the act. The petty attempts of the class clearly showed they were afraid but determined to challenge the beast of evil to a water fight. King Dice had flat out declared all out war. She wondered if she’d lose the bet on the two actually getting further than flirting, namely, actually go on a date.

               The Devil heaved himself out of the water, eyes alight with something that Pirouletta couldn’t see enough of to determine what it was. He slowly prowled around King Dice, his massive serpentine form curling around the unimpressed man. The unimpressed arched brow remained, even when Devil rocketed forward and snapped his massive jaw closed inches from King Dice’s face. In return, King Dice started scratching under her bosses’ chin.

               “Well maybe you shouldn’t fire across the bow if you don’t want shots returned” King Dice had a particularly amused lilt to his voice. Almost as if he found it cute when the Devil, the fallen angel, the Lord of all that is unholy, show case his power and directly threatened him. She wondered why and resolved herself to asking how he did it. She was relatively new and desperately wanted her fellow workers to stop laughing when she fretted at the slightest grumble he directed her way. Though, watching the literal owner of her soul flop over like a tame kitten and shake the ground with his purring was helping.

\---0---0---0---

               As the day moved on, and students showcased to the teacher and to each other the various things they could do and had learned, King Dice had gotten changed and was relaxing in the shade after showing the teacher what he needed to for the day. He may, or may not, have turned the teacher’s liquor to water. It may, or may not, have had something to do with how hard Devil burst out laughing upon the teacher exclaiming with great sorrow, what he had done. Somehow, Devil had squirmed his way under King Dice and was letting him use Devils thick and rather warm fur as a pillow. Devil, in the form of a massive cat, seemed quite content in their position, and would send a withering glare at anything that tried to bother them.

               That bird hadn’t deserved to be set ablaze, but it had been, and one of the students had squirreled it away to eat later, much to the horror of their bird roommate. King Dice knew he shouldn’t be nodding off quite this much, especially not in such a manner, exposed to the class. The tired part of his mind helpfully supplied a shrug, as well as a note of who would dare try and prank him when he was leaning on Devil. Between one lazy blink and the next, he was out, only just barely glimpsing the tail wrapping cozily around one of his thighs.

\---0---0---0---

               Apparently, someone in his class figured death was absolutely the thing they wanted. That boy had always been rather snitty to King Dice, complaining that he was only getting better because he made a deal with Satan. Not only was it not him that had made the deal, his roommate, who _had,_ _still_ had to study like crazy despite Devil ensuring they'd pass. King Dice cared very little for him, as such, when he woke to the sound of the fountain pen screaming hysterically and Devil rumbling rather angrily, he actually debated doing anything to stop the beat down. However, he was still rather comfortable, and the angry growling wasn’t exactly peaceful. As such, he figured he’d try what his mother always told him to and put what he had to use.

               It started out as a finger tapping a pace on Devil’s tail, something Devil noticed, but was far too angry to question. Then it bloomed into a steady humming after King Dice picked a recent song he’d heard. He’d fallen in love with the tune and had sang it a few times while Devil was gone. It never failed to put a rather happy smile on his face and make his roommate thank the heavens King Dice could actually sing. As the merry words smoothly started to fill the air, the rumbling near ceased instantly. The fountain pen desperately clawed his way out from under Devil’s paw and darted for safety. King Dice idly grabbed Devil’s tail and started swaying the tip in tune with his singing. It was hard to be angry when a song calling for leaving ones worries on the doorstep and direct their feet to the sunny side of the street, after all.

               Pirouletta, who sat by the fire and was adding spices from her own stash to the large cauldron brewing up stew, swayed to the tune as well. King Dices roommate, who had been so hoping to see the fountain pen get eaten, once more turned their head to the heavens and thanked whoever gave them a roommate that could actually sing. Devil, soothed as he was, also spared a thankful thought to the skies, and didn’t bother with the surprised shouts and cries of ‘He thanked God for something! The mad man! It’s been centuries!’ ‘someone catch Raphael I think he’s going to faint!’ ‘Sweet mercy I think God went into shock!’

               If he gave a dopey grin when King Dice gave him a warm look when singing a line addressing ‘my sweet’, then no one would ever mention it. To his face that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Devil's main issue is he's never really had to pursue a love interest of his before. Usually they want something from him and offer themselves up. So it's no surprise he's still trying to figure out how best to flirt with his crush. Good thing King Dice is forgiving, and quite used to crazy stuff. The things his roommate has done easily dwarf what Devil has done thus far. Also, why yes, sunny side of the street by proleter was indeed playing while i wrote this. I promise it won't be this calm all the time for these two.


	9. Gardening for dummies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem with magically reviving a garden is, ya never know what else you're bringing back.

Lady Mugs looked to the skyline. Hilda, after giving them a star piece that they could let float in their soul liquid and never have to fear having nightmares from any dream entity, had left an hour ago. His Knight had just about fallen asleep the second the adrenaline wore off and was resting on a bed Mugs, in a frantic search for a decent place to put his brother, had deemed ‘not as bad as the others’. He could feel the star piece floating down near his straw’s end and he twirled his head a bit, his straw knocking against it, rolling it around. Normally he’d never put anything in his soul liquid but he’d heard of these sorts of charms before and if Cuphead trusted it, he would too.

Currently, he was content letting his brother rest peacefully while he was told a few stories from the straggling dead who’d offered to help keep boredom at bay. He had helped him lug Cuphead into the old store so it was only fair. Mugs had penned a letter to the town back across the way, informing them they wouldn’t have to fear going to sleep anymore and the general gist of what had gone down. He’d also given a few apples to the horse, and then sent it back on its way. Inkwell assured him the horse would get back safely, and that was that. Now he listened as the undead golden coin regaled him with tales of his numerous plunders and robberies. He told Mugs that he’d hidden so many stashes of his wealth around he’d forgotten where most of them were.

Mugs offered to try and get Inkwell to find the stashes and was promptly told no and that the stashes were free game. It was great that he had so many stories to tell because it took Cuphead three hours after Hilda left to wake up. Then those awake listened to him look for Mugs, not see him, panic, fall out of bed, call out for Mugs who just shushed those around him and Inkwell, and then listen as Cuphead stumbled down the stairs. The deep frown and the squint of disapproval was absolutely worth waiting three hours while the sun rose and the dead sealed up the observatory, using it as a full mausoleum, and while he sat in an old gown.

“That was dirty.” Cuphead grumbled, stomping back up the stairs and getting his armor properly put back on .

“Consider that revenge for the night before last~.” Mugs replied in a sing-song voice. The Coin bid him farewell and headed towards the observatory. There had been a slab of heavy stone put in place by Inkwell to seal up the gaping hole in the entrance and it sunk enough to let him in and then rose back up. Once settled, Mugs cut the lines keeping their souls bound and rolled his shoulders at the sudden lack of weight. It might not have been him that had revived them, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it when they were sent back.

“What are you still doing in that thing? I thought you’d have gotten a new one by now.” Cuphead questioned, tactfully accepting the teasing and deciding to move on. Mugs tapped his heel to the ground in a clear indication that Inkwell was the one at fault. He couldn’t change into a dress if it wasn’t given to him after all, things didn’t grow on trees. Despite him believing that for a few years thanks to Inkwell and its’ rather strange sense of humor. Inkwell, as if answering his tap, shook a building behind them. In the window, as if watching them, was the next gown. The fact that it looked like someone was wearing it already and the fact that the dust and light from the buildings shimmy made it look like a figure was in the gown did not do good things for the two.

“I hate when you do that Inkwell. I really do.” Mugs said, slowly approaching the doorway while windows were sealed with dirt walls to provide privacy. It also made the room the dress was in far more eerie and at this point the two were sure Inkwell was doing this on purpose.

“Should…Should I stab it a few times to be sure?” Cuphead asked.

“No, we’ve yet to see an actual possessed dress so I don’t think Inkwell would start testing our ghost hunting skills now.” Mugs replied, albeit reluctantly. Cuphead gave the gown a suspicious glance and stopped outside the doorway. A handful of minutes later, some adjustments here and there, and the light blue gown was properly in place. Considering it was still warm, Mugs was thankful the gown was silk rather than wool. Cool porcelain body or no, Mugs wasn’t a fan of heat. The short sleeves also helped, and after pulling the wrist length gloves on, Mugs and Cuphead were off. They weren’t too sure of their destination, but that was what Inkwell’s guidance was for. They’d find the next person in need of assistance, or the person would find them.

\---0---0---0---

The good news about being made of porcelain, was that things like muscles and fatigue either didn’t exist, or didn’t affect them. Soul liquid didn’t act like blood either, it just kept flowing, devouring impurities and assimilating food taken in for any repair needs. No one knew how it worked, and no porcelain beings were telling. Honestly it was because they didn’t know either and they weren’t interested in finding out. The biggest downside they had, besides living about as long as it took to break them, was that that’s all it took. Porcelain was far hardier than any other earthenware, so a fall or two wasn’t going to end them. Luckier still was the fact that the Lady and the Knight’s porcelain had been bolstered just a tad more by Inkwell. All children for Inkwell were born stronger than the average baby.

Granted, there were still plenty of other things to fell porcelain people much like any other species, Inkwell upgrades or no. If the soul liquid drained entirely from their bodies they’d die. If something got into the liquid and warped them, they’d need to be purified by another porcelain being. Extreme heat could evaporate their soul liquid, and freezing cold could solidify the liquid, locking them into whatever position they froze in until they thawed. It was a miserable business for any porcelain being, especially so for the very few other porcelain beings who had been Ladies and Knights before.

Every Lady was taught to put herself above all others, even her Knight. She could revive her Knight after all, and three former Lady’s had indeed been forced to. If the Lady fell, that was it, the Knight had no ability to revive or heal. If a Lady fell, the parents, if still able, would have to birth a new Lady and Knight. If not, they were booted out and a new king and queen took their place. Now, all that above, plus a woman who had no real desire to go through the hell that was bringing a porcelain life into the world again after two goes at it; led to their mother and father studying the various downfalls of every pair of Lady and Knight religiously, making for a weird upbringing.

Their parents had been prepared to do everything their power to be sure their children, who, being porcelain and would potentially live for centuries, would _last_. The king had taken to surprise “attacking” his children. The queen had taken to teaching Mugs how to make heels a rather nasty weapon. They’d instilled blistering visions of ‘romance’ that had left Cuphead crying and Mugs green in the face.  Both parents had ensured the siblings, though independent, didn’t like being apart for too long. The one time Cuphead had abandoned his sibling had not been a fun day for anybody, and he hadn’t even done it intentionally.

Everyone at the castle had recalled the day the two had gone missing. The king had simply fainted when the two didn’t show for lunch, and the queen went _hunting_. She had never assumed they were in danger, she had told them while holding them tightly. But she’d hated seeing the poor castle workers fret and scamper around. As it had turned out, Cuphead, five at the time, had spotted a rather pretty butterfly he’d wanted to give to his brother, and had chased the thing all the way up the castle’s roof. He’d been found having a rather impressive conversation with Inkwell about how best to get down.

Mugs had been found wandering a graveyard he should never have been able to get to. The place had been sequestered behind no less than four barred entrances. People suspected Inkwell had helped Mugs but no one had any proof. He’d been trying to have a “tea party” with a few skeletons, two of which had given up their skulls to act as cups. If the tea party had really just been a bunch of former kings and queens gleefully celebrating with the new Lady, no one had the heart to tell him that tea parties generally didn’t include loud cheers. Well that and the third king laughing and getting the fourth and second kings to have a play battle using their wives femur bones.

Since Cuphead had been found first, he’d gotten the worst of the utter hell that was their enraged mother. She bore down on him with vivid descriptions of what had happened to the few Ladies who had inattentive Knights. The worst being the Lady who’d been flat out abandoned to die by her Knight. Cuphead had cried and Inkwell had been unsure of how to react. On one hand, someone was antagonizing the Knight, on the other, it couldn’t really do anything until either he was out of range or it could decide that the scolding wasn’t warranted. Making a Lady and Knight took painful precise focus and for a sentient landmass, the less times it had to do it, the better. So it ultimately decided the scolding was indeed warranted.

Mugs had been scolded as well, as just letting the Knight leave was detrimental to reviving him. Mugs had more been upset at seeing his crying big brother and had stubbornly refused to stop hugging Cuphead until Cuphead had calmed down. He’d taken his scolding far better than Cuphead had and a part of their mother had feared he hadn’t quite gotten the message. It was impossible to tell, so their mother had just done everything else in her power to make Mugs fear being alone. Their father had just gone with their mother.

\---0---0---0---

The sun was high in the sky by the time the two had decided to pause. Before them sat a rather interesting sight. They had somehow found what looked like a long-forgotten garden. The flowers that were still alive were all various types put in beautiful patterns. Or, beautiful from what the two could tell through the weeds. There was a greenhouse off to one side. Its windows had been shattered long ago and the rusted skeletal frame of the building was listing to one side. There were intricate pots of various sizes that looked to have been used to start the growing process for the harder to grow plants. The brothers could see there was a path through the garden, though it was sorely grown over and barely visible. Vines of all types crawled up trees that still bore various fruits. The rotted remains of past harvests covered the ground around the trunks.

It almost felt like the two had found a secret place that had lost its care takers ages ago. Mugs had a the distinct urge to see what it had looked like in its heyday. Distinct enough that he hadn’t even bothered with removing his gloves before he started on pulling weeds and getting Inkwell to help. Cuphead had shrugged and gotten down to help. The two worked long enough that Inkwell took note and curiously pulled an entire chunk of weeds down. It was always far more accurate with plant-life than animal life, so once it got an idea of what plants the brothers were removing, it started to help as well, working around withered roots and still healthy flowers.

With the three working to a certain rhythm, it only took an hour and a half to repair half of the garden to its former state. Feeling like they had a good enough start to go ahead with full on reviving the past, Mugs, who had made it to the other side, lit up the ground with a different sort of recall. Instead of lightning, the dirt under him pulsed with wave after wave of green magic. Lady’s magic didn’t just revive the dead after all. It healed and repaired their bodies to a degree that they could function enough to help the Lady and support the soul returning.

Now, most necromancers couldn’t quite revive anything and everything dead or dormant. They usually specialized in certain areas. It was far stranger, though maybe not any more difficult, to try and call back the soul of a fish than it was to call back the soul of a person. Even stranger, and _definitely_ harder, was calling back the dormant memories of things old enough to have history. The Lady, to no one’s surprise, was always proficient in reviving dead people, _and_ bringing life back into plants. Lazy Ladies simply requested Inkwell handle the plant bit, so it was the least used skill the Lady had. Why bother using ones’ own energy when a simple request would get the job done with no effort? Mugs however, had been told to learn everything he could do, and use it, by his mother. His mother who, frankly scarred him more than seeing his first half rotted body had. Reviving a garden was almost too easy for him.

Plants around rustled and returned to life, vivid blue hydrangeas reached high, lilac bushes stood at attention, tulips helped line the paths far better. Yellows, reds, violets and colors they’d never seen before filled the neglected garden. The Greenhouse near Cuphead was soon lined with vines where glass had been. Deep mahogany red Clematis vines bloomed, showcasing their flowers and the air was soon full of the heady scent of a true garden at its’ height of bloom. Various vegetables of strange colors peeked out of the dirt and reached for the sky. Tomatoes that were a vivid yellow, white vegetables the two hadn’t seen before, and fruits on top of that.

The brothers were so engrossed in the gorgeous view of countless flowers coming back to life that one more enormous bloom escaped their notice. It was Cuphead that noticed the flower that was far, far larger than all the others, growing rapidly behind his brother. At first, he assumed it was just a bunch of yellow hydrangeas bunched tightly with orange carnations. That is, until he realized there was a face giant gaping eye sockets and a rather impressive set of teeth easily as long as his forearm, twisted in an angry and scared snarl. He felt a wave of confusion and fear and anger pour through the ground around them, _all_ around them. Upon realizing that he twisted around, trying to see how many more like that thing there were. His soul just about froze when he couldn’t find any others. It was just the roots of that thing, and the vines now clearly visible, and _massive_.

The vicious thorns covering the alarming amount of vines and the stem were also not something he wanted anywhere near his brother. For a second, all he could think was ‘ _well, at least he’s just a forest spirit...or…sprite…’_ because those usually settled after a minute as long as you showed you weren’t hostile or about to hurt their tree or grove. Then two tree trunk sized hands, easily three times their own hand sizes, slammed down beside Mugs. His brother promptly locked up and the flow of magic cut itself off. Inkwell sent a reassuring brush of wind across them, telling the two it knew this one.

“What?! What’s happened? Why can’t I see anything? My garden!” The biggest creature either brother had ever seen spoke with clear fright and confusion in his booming voice. Inkwell seemed to be trying to communicate with it, or, Cagney apparently, according to the whisper of a name Cuphead was given. For some reason, Cagney either couldn’t hear it, feel it, or just didn’t want to. The brothers looked at each other with sharpening worry. Though, Mugs apparently less so, as since Cagney had been revived by him, and what with being the Lady, Cagney shouldn’t be able to harm him or Cuphead. The two remained frozen, hoping Inkwell could figure out what was wrong with Cagney. Cagney shifted, his hands pressing deeply into the ground, yet not damaging any plants under his long fingers or heavy palms. Finally, Mugs decided to see what would happen if he spoke up, whatever it was, there was little chance it would be bad, so he figured he had nothing to lose.

“Uh, excuse me?” Mugs spoke up, and Cuphead and Inkwell both grew highly alarmed upon the dramatic uptick in disorganized fear. Before anyone could move, Cagney swiped one of his hands out, and unlike what the three had believed would happened, it connected. Cuphead watched with a strange numbness as his brother was sent across the garden and crashing into a tree easily thirty feet away. Even from where he was, he heard the sharp _crack_ and saw the stain of dark blue soul liquid left on the tree when Mugs lifeless form slid down and laid still on his side. Birds stopped singing, the wind stopped blowing, and the very air seemed to shiver. Cagney let out a confused sound and opened and closed his hand, as if surprised he’d hit something.

Cuphead didn’t know how he moved so fast, but one moment he was still kneeling on the ground next to the greenhouse, the next, he was halfway to his brother. Cagney reared up, clearly feeling something wandering around his garden but unable to see it and too confused to hear where it was. Which was a shame for him really, being a forest entity, he was very, _very_ susceptible to Inkwell’s wrath. Inkwell **_screamed_ ,** everything around them shook violently, raining down fruits, leaves, even entire branches, covering its’ Knights footsteps. Cagney cried out and cowered, digging the sharp tips to his nails into the dirt and calling Inkwell’s name.

Some far away part of Cuphead realized that Cagney wasn’t truly revived the same way the dead normally were. His soul had apparently been bound to the garden and was never truly gone. So the waves of healing magic had nourished it and helped him regrow like everything else. Not only this, but he genuinely couldn’t tell what he was doing at the moment. It was like when Cuphead had actually managed to hurt Mugs, but far, far worse. Cuphead slid to a stop and drew a line, allowing Inkwell to break the ground behind him and give him proper cover. Mugs was still, entirely too still. His straw was stuck in a branch above them, his handle was completely broken off, but that wasn’t what truly scared Cuphead. The broken off arm leaking dark blue soul liquid and the deep and jagged spiderweb of cracks leading from somewhere under the gown all the way out were what got him. There was _so much_ liquid and Cuphead was a Knight.

He was a Knight, and Knights couldn’t heal.

His Lady and brother was losing what gave him life, and movement, and a _soul_ and he couldn’t heal.

He was a Knight, and Knights couldn’t bring back the dead.

Hands he didn’t recognize reached out and shakily pressed the broken arm back into its’ former spot. The porcelain creaked and screeched, the shaking too violent to do much good. They were his hands, Cuphead realized. His hands were shaking and not helping and if he didn’t calm down, his brother would drain entirely and there’d be no fixing him. Some detached part of his mind suddenly yanked on the reins to his body and he jerked like a puppet on strings. His hands shot out and tore the dress until he could see the corset. He undid the ties and _yanked_ on them, the porcelain underneath let out distressed screeches that went silent a second later. He tied it off, letting the corset keep the midsection together.

Somewhere behind him he registered Inkwell shrieking, Cagney begging for answers, and distressed crying. The fact that he was the one crying didn’t fully catch though and wouldn’t for a while. For now, he was focused on nothing but the too still body of his brother _still_ leaking, _still unconscious, **not dead.**_ His brother was **not** dead. Porcelain beings stopped breathing when their bodies were injured, ensuring the cracks wouldn’t get worse and chips wouldn’t form. **_He wasn’t dead_. **

Cuphead thought he heard his own voice plead for some form of sticky substance like glue or sap that he could use to reattach the arm, and the leg now that he noticed the growing stain on the silk skirt. Inkwell, ever vigilant of its’ children, responded by driving a stone spike directly into the tree Mugs had been sent into. The tree immediately began pouring out sticky sap and Cuphead gathered as much of it as he could on his gloves.

He smeared it on the cracked surface, ignoring the gaping black void that marked the core of the limb where soul liquid flowed in the middle of the limb. That small corner of his mind ensured his hands didn’t shake when he pressed the arm back together and held it for as long as he dared before he yanked the skirt out of the way and thanked everything he could for stockings. Though both legs were broken, the stockings had kept them from breaking clean away like the arm had. He still rubbed sap as best he could into the breaks, hoping to help the soul liquid reattach the limbs. The handle was the last thing on his list of things to fix, so he returned to the arm.

Cagney had started hysterically apologizing, crying out despairing pleas for Inkwell to understand he’d never have hit the Lady. He was a forest spirit after all, not a single one of them would dare harm the Lady or Knight of Inkwell. If Inkwell wasn’t more interested in seeing if its’ Lady would wake up, it would be tearing Cagney apart by his roots. For now, the air around them all dropped in temperature, and the sap began to show signs of having an effect. The midsection was still worrying, but the corset, now honestly Cuphead’s favorite piece of clothing ever, was doing an amazing job of keeping the torso intact. The lower temperature helped the sap solidify faster, and Inkwell viciously demanded Cagney be silent.

Cuphead finally realized he was full on crying, pinkish clear tears rolling down his face and falling onto the ground and Mugs arm below. Cuphead carefully shifted, letting the arm rest, giving a choked sob when it held firmly in place. He lifted his brothers head into his lap and took a careful look. There was a rather horrifying crack down the left side of his head, that had miraculously not been deep enough to split open. It was also already on the mend and Cuphead weakly reached for the handle.

His hands were still  sticky, so he smeared more sap into the broken section and reached for more dripping down from the stone spike. He stuck the handle back on and stared at his brothers face. There was a trail of soul liquid leaking from his mouth and Cuphead tugged his glove of and wiped it away. Mugs would be so mad when he woke up and his face was messy. No one had to tell him about the sticky handprints on either side of his cheeks.

He could feel Inkwell settle, rage still boiling underneath but willing to see the fate of its’ Lady. It had been centuries since a Lady had died so young, and it had hope that the trend of not dying early would continue. Cagney continued to silently weep, unable to see, barely grasping the situation through the torrent of emotions coming from everywhere at once. The last thing he remembered was growing weaker and weaker. Something had been leeching at his life energy, then nothing for a while. Next thing he knew he was back but with no vision. His world was entirely down to his roots and what he could feel with his hands. He heard the tiny sound of someone crying and carefully, oh so carefully inched his head closer to the sounds. If he truly had hit the Lady, then it was either the Knight crying, or the Lady. Either way, he dug around his mind for memories of how the garden was laid out. He knew there’d be a few plants that could soothe pain.

“I-“ He tried to speak, but his tongue got tied and his throat locked up. Instead, he felt the edge of the newly raised earth, felt the intense _push_ of warning to go no closer, and reached back with his other hand towards where he thought the plants would be. His roots shifted just enough to touch those above them and he found what he wanted. Using his roots to guide his hand, he gathered what he needed and brought everything over to his other hand. Inkwell “eyed” him in its own way, but allowed the offer and soothed its’ Knights’ terror. Cagney let the plants roll forward to his now far less vicious finger tips and felt a much too tiny hand take the offering.

Cuphead was aware Inkwell had basically forced him to accept what he could only guess was a peace offering from the thing. However, it wasn’t what made him ultimately use the various flower petals and stems. Whatever woke his brother up and let Cuphead know he wasn’t too far gone, Cuphead would take. He let Inkwell figure out what was needed to get the various plants to do their thing, did as told, and then tried to stop his tears. Mugs would be so annoyed at him for crying on his face after all.

“Are, are you the Knight?” He heard the thing say, and because he simply couldn’t work his mouth, Inkwell replied for him. There must have been a reason Inkwell was less hostile now, and Cuphead could only guess Inkwell was either biding its time or knew that its’ Lady would be fine.  Cuphead didn’t care, he wanted his little brother to open his eyes. Realizing he would be of no more help, Cagney settled, prepared to guard the two from anything and everything.

\---0---0---0—

The first sign of Mugs returning to the land of the conscious, was the twitch from the arm that had nothing more than a line to show it had been broken clean off above the elbow. The corset creaked and without opening his eyes, Mugs finally spoke.

“Cuphead, if you put my corset on too tight as a prank I swear I’m going to bury your head.” He said in a tired and weak voice. Cuphead gave a watery laugh in response, equally weak but bursting with relief.

“Yeah, went all the way with this one. Ruined a perfectly good dress too, got sap all over it.” He replied, and Mugs tried to sigh, only getting a frail huff out instead.

“Third time brother, you’re losing your creativity.” Mugs finally, _finally_ opened his eyes, and the tiny smile on his face vanished. Cuphead’s cheeks were entirely stained with pink tear streaks, his body was slumped in a highly uncomfortable position, and he looked exhausted. He tried shifting to better look at Cuphead, maybe hug him, but there was a grinding screech and he froze.

“Cuphead?” The single word was full of growing realization, discomfort, fear, and panic.

“Don’t, hush, you’re fine. That corset is a real lifesaver. We’re going to have to give it a true funeral. It served its Lady well. Just, please, _please don’t move.”_ Cuphead bent as far as his armor would allow and hugged his brother’s head, still in his lap.

“Alright,” Mugs replied, his voice muffled and tiny. “Is Inkwell mad at us?” The affronted and highly reassuring downpour of leaves and the soothing wind was more than enough of a response.

“Nah, its’ real mad at what’s-his-face though. You shoulda heard it go off on him.” Cuphead told him.

“Where is he?” Mugs asked, so Cuphead moved, the dirt shifted down, and Cagney rose just enough that the two could see the empty sockets and the pained expression. Mugs seemed to think for a few minutes, silence reigning once more.

“I’ll have you know, that was the worst greeting I’ve ever received. Easily worse than the water nymph.” Mugs told Cagney, the diplomat in him kicking into high gear and taking in everything about the forest spirit who had to be ancient based on his size. Cagney sunk lower to the ground, letting out a wounded noise. Cuphead clutched his brother’s head closer.

“Mister… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Cagney, Cagney Carnation, Lady Inkwell.” Cagney, despite still towering over them lowered as he was, had a weak strained voice. His hands seemed to almost bury themselves into the ground, like he was reassuring himself by ensuring he couldn’t hurt the Lady again.

“Quite the swing you’ve got Mr. Carnation. Especially since, and I’m guessing here, you can’t see. It’s nice to know you’ve calmed down!” Mugs didn’t look near as cheerful as he sounded, and somehow, Cagney knew that. Cagney, with as little movement as possible, nodded.

“I didn’t fall under peacefully Lady Inkwell, though that doesn’t forgive my actions. I know I shouldn’t be asking anything of-“

“Hush, you wouldn’t have hit me if you knew. If you wouldn’t mind us having a far better discussion when I’m not broken and my Knight isn’t smearing….what is that…is- is that sap on my _face_? Oh Cuphead you had better clean me off after you and I get some more rest. _”_ Mugs reached his unfractured hand up and Cuphead grabbed it with the gloved hand. Mugs winced at feeling the two pieces of fabric stick and looked to the tree above him. He very carefully did not look or acknowledge the tree smeared with his soul liquid and decided looking down would only do more harm than good.

“I,” Cagney cleared his throat and spoke just a hint louder. “I can keep watch while you two rest. If you, and Inkwell, will let me.” He finished, his voice barely a mumble. Inkwell, as per its own decision, left judgement to its’ Knight and Lady. Cuphead looked ready to tear Cagney to metaphorical pieces by insult alone. Mugs however, tightened his grip and Cuphead sighed. He flopped over, carefully arranging himself so he was between Cagney and his brother.

“That would be quite nice Mr. Carnation. I’ll probably be mad at you later, when I’ve got more energy. Until then, Inkwell, could you see about repairing Mr. Carnation’s eyes?” Inkwell, disagreeing about as much as Cuphead did, inevitably agreed when Mugs frowned at the both of them.

“Thank you, Lady Inkwell. I won’t move, for obvious reasons.” Cagney weakly smiled, his far friendlier and flatter teeth making the smile less frightening. Mugs gave a weak hum in response, and he was out. His body ceasing all movement once more while repairs continued. Cuphead removed his other glove along with Mugs and held his little brothers hand tightly, letting his eyes close and his body limp. Despite sleep taking over, he didn’t loosen his hold on his brother’s head, and his body didn’t so much as twitch during the long hours he was asleep. Something blocked out the sun, likely a tree grown to impressive proportions and the brothers slept. The star pieces working double time to keep their rest peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cagney, drained and left dormant for who knows how long only to wake up and swipe one of the two people he and his kind wouldn't dream of hurting. Good news is Mugs is terrible at holding grudges. Cuphead on the other hand, oh he has no problem doing so. This thing had started getting so long I had to split it in two. Cagneys fate will have to wait until then I suppose!


	10. It him. The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look back on Devil and why he'd be so interested in one mortal above the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this a cool down chapter. I'm sure one is needed after everything else that's been happening.

Devil was centuries old. He was ancient by every definition, easily five thousand years, with plenty more to come. He’d ruled over hell since he’d been shoved down into the newly crafted domain. He had been so enraged by his father’s actions he’d torn and tormented any soul that came into his world. His wrathful frenzy lasted a thousand years and the mortals above grew to fear him. He’d seen the rise and fall of numerous empires. He’d watched creatures change adapt or die off and his wrath cooled. The imps and mortals so cruel and horrid they’d been warped by Hell and had become demons of a sort took over the tormenting. He hadn’t said anything to stop them, far too uncaring of the pleas for mercy or the denials. He knew his land was heavens garbage dump, but couldn’t care less.

He knew his downfall had been emotions. He’d felt them far too intensely and it cost him. Then it had made the only things he’d likely be seeing fear him and hate him. Demons revered him in the way one would a hated tyrant. There were attempts to kill him, all failing miserably. Sometimes Devil stomped them out before they really began, others, he humored the souls or demons and let them grow. He lavished in crushing their very being into the dust of his domain. Of course no one would usurp him. Hell was his, and would only ever obey him. It would only ever answer to him, and thus far, was the only thing that didn’t fear him.

Hell, unlike him, drifted along under the surface, never truly staying in one spot. That is until he realized that Hell had noticed another, and had settled itself under another landmass above. It had grown bored and was thankful to be interested in another land growing sentience. It really wanted to see what came out of it.

Inkwell grew in strength quickly, the magic of that world settling below its very center and branching most heavily under it. It had given Hell one cursory glance and hadn’t bothered to do anything else but that. Much like Hell, Devil had been amused. He even joked about how funny it was that Hell had been dismissed by its’ own type. Hell had retaliated by dumping lava from Inkwell onto him. Inkwell had grumbled and hissed but couldn’t do much else. Hell did eventually cease using Inkwell’s lava, and as an attempt at peace, had offered to clear away the sheer ungodly amount of souls Inkwell had under its soil and on its land. Thus the two had began a strange friendship.

Hell, and Devil as an extension, grew less hostile, less brutal, and Hell became a place that celebrated vices, and mocked togas, but that was only on Wednesdays. Demons had been confused, but residual fear of Devil ensured they didn’t say anything. The few that did were stomped out not by Devil, but by Hell itself. They had no right to try and dictate the very land they walked on after all. Some down in Hell, old enough to watch Inkwell grow and change, came to realize that Inkwell had taken cues from Hell. Some believed it was why Inkwell was so creative with how it handled things it didn’t like. Others thought that was where Inkwell’s apparent love for its creatures came from, a need to spite and distance itself from Hell. Whatever the reason, Devil watched the two interact and the new souls come in.

He noticed how some were spreading word of magic that could summon even his demons and grew interested. So he’d slipped some of his knowledge of arcane magic into the threads of Inkwell and watched the reaction. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for people to learn how to summon even him. The first time he was called up was two hundred years after Hell had settled. The summoner, a bird like creature, had reacted rather poorly, screaming and shouting.

He thought it was his smell.

It was not.

So after slaughtering the annoying thing, he’d decided to shower and wait for the next call. Hell had mocked him for weeks, being rejected by his first summoner. Devil had rolled his eyes and threw a fit that wound up getting his fur covered in bits of imp and demon, but the second shower had soothed him and he’d settled. The third shower Hell had _so courteously_ given him had been unneeded and he’d appeared to the next summon drenched in water. Luckily the summoner had taken that in stride, and had requested, or rather, demanded he obey them. He’d been so affronted that they’d treat him like one of his demons he’d taken advantage of the fact that the circle was broken and had murdered the summoner.

Hell, equally affronted, had formed a special place for summoners like the two before and given the green light for all demons to “go to work” on whoever wound up in there. To Hell and Devil, the summoners most often wound up to be pathetic yapping children in their eyes. Devil had gotten so frustrated he’d started actually granting the requests in the most creative ways he could. Someone wanted wealth? He’d give them countless coins in a currency that didn’t exist in their country, and was, in fact, on the other side of the globe. They wanted fame? He’d strung their corpse up with all their sins listed in their blood in a grotesque display that would go down in the books as a warning. He did everything he could to dissuade people from summoning him and yet they continued to do so.

He was a tad more lenient to the people who accidentally called on him though. Hell had been laughing for days when he’d been summoned by a little girl who thought the circle had been a pretty picture and had ensured she’d never run out of sweets and her teeth would never rot as a gift for not being horrible. She’d even called him ‘Mr. Fluffy.’ Inkwell had told Hell about that and Hell had a field day with the information.

Eventually, he’d been summoned enough that he’d had to dig through those that wandered in Hell to see if anyone could watch Hell while he was gone. That was how he’d discovered Mr. Wheezy, a demon born from Hell itself out of hellfire. Wheezy had been suitably terrified of him, but competent. With the addition of Chips Bettigan, Mangosteen, Mr. Chimes, Pip and Dot, Phear Leap, the Tipsy Troop, and Hopus Pocus he’d gained a decent set of underlings. His most recent one was Pirouletta and she’d been because he liked how she cowered but didn’t stop sharing her suggestions. They were good suggestions too, like how to liven Hell up a tad bit more from its’ reddish haze and random pits of fire and or blood and or blood on fire.

Now there were gold bits of haze, and pits of various liquidized metals. Honestly he loved the flashy additions. Hell did too.

As it was, the summons continued, and the slaughter of rude fuckers continued in turn. It was tiring and frustrating and amusing and worth it. He loved Hell, he really did. But seeing the upper world was great.  He loved the sheer amount of color and life Inkwell and a few of the other lands held. The way the colors changed, the people changed, the air gained new smells, he loved it. If he also took the time to doodle insults with the blood of the rude summoners directed above, well who cared. He was lord of hell and had no problem making people think he was depraved.

There was a problem however, and it was a rather problematic problem. The sheer level of summons and revivals from necromancers and the like had thinned the line between Hell and Inkwell. While Hell was entirely fine with it, Inkwell was not, and had been enraged when Hell had merely shrugged in the way giant sentient landmasses did. Inkwell, surprisingly, had taken a very short amount of time to respond. It took to smothering and crushing any who drew a circle or tried opening a portal to Hell. It was merciless in who it destroyed, to the point that even Heaven had taken note and was watching with horror, begging Hell to do something. Hell had laughed until Inkwell flat out tore a successfully summoned demon to shreds. Only then did Hell realize that Inkwell wasn’t as weak as it had assumed and started working on a fix.

Devil had gotten an idea when he’d passed by a pair of demons telling stories. One such tale of a phantom carriage that carried the dead to the afterlife. That pair of demons had laughed at the stupidity but Devil loved it. Hell had presented it, and Inkwell accepted it. Thus, the phantom Ferry was brought in. The thing could turn into whatever was most efficient as technology got better. It didn’t take long to become a train, screaming along a track that always guided it to the next stop. The phantom express ensured that the veil was repaired and strengthened in all but a few areas. This allowed Inkwell to control how many people summoned creatures from below and gave it control of how long the creature stayed. The express would come around and pick up anyone that overstayed their welcome in frankly brutal ways.

Later on, about a hundred years after that, Inkwell had told Hell that the lands around it were embroiled in war and it was having to spend a lot of time defending itself from invaders who were frankly rude. Hell had told it all the reasons it knew for why creatures fought, and Inkwell went to work solving its problems. Soon, outsiders feared the sentient land, deeming it not worth trying to invade. That wasn’t a hard decision, it only took dragging entire navies under its waters and flinging invading soldiers up so high into the sky they came back down broiled by re-entry. Hell had been so damn proud it had transferred over to Devil and Devil had praised Inkwell himself. In order to ensure its own “adorable” creatures didn’t get too snitty as well, Inkwell had observed the lands around it with the lines of magic linking it to them. It watched how people were told what to do by a single family and liked that, but didn’t like the sheer amount of murder that went on. So it watched more and found another nation that chose their ruler by what looked like who was most liked. It loved that even more, and combined those two ideas.

Hell told Inkwell that it and Devil were basically one, and if Hell was having issues, Devil would handle it, and if Devil was having issues, Hell would handle it. Inkwell had all but glowed with interest and went about making its own thing. Hell watched, heart shaped clouds of acidic combustible gasses forming above its not burning pits. Devil had poked fun at Hell, and then spent four days crying when Hell had reminded Devil that nine times out of ten the only reason people wanted to see him was because they wanted to use him.

“You’re just a means to an end to those above you loser, don’t even try and tease me you unloved angel reject trash heap of a bitch.” It had snapped. Devil was so torn about this realization he’d refused to answer any summons, he was strong enough to do so after all. He did it enough that people above began to believe special requirements were now needed. Father’s ugly toga was it a bitch to wake up covered in goats or newborn babies or shivering ‘virgins’. He had flat out revived the last ‘sacrifice’ with a note to never send another fucking goat or baby or sniveling tart again on pain of evisceration. Apparently that hadn’t been well received because people started doing it more.

In a fit of frustration, Devil had ranted and raved the next time he was summoned and tried to scare the fear of offing random creatures just because he wasn’t listening to their pitiful wants anymore. Now, he had no idea how that translated to ‘kill off all black furred creatures like cats and dogs to appease the devil’ but it did. And he had a massive influx of new animals that he’d shoved towards Heaven and demanded they take. Heaven’s people had mocked him, but taken the animals and babies.

It continued like this for another eight centuries, give or take, for the summon that he’d always remember called him to the first person he’d ever seen that had instantly grabbed his attention.

\---0---0---0---

King Dice had greeted him with an offer of tea and biscuits for the inconvenience of being summoned by his roommate. Devil, confused, had tried to correct the man only to realize that he was entirely correct. King Dice’s blood had been used in the circle, but since it had been the roommate to draw the circle, call out the incantation, and do everything else, it really was the roommate. Devil had been so thrown off by the first ever offer to him that wasn’t a dead animal or strange creature that he’d agreed with a rather blank look on his face. King Dice had given him a patient smile, informed him that he wasn’t the worst thing his roommate had done in the apartment, and slid the plate of biscuits and the cup of tea over the circle, careful to not break it, over to him.

Devil was smitten after the first bite.

“The only people that get to eat my food are the ones that don’t fuck up my floor and swipe my candles. I will _never_ forgive you for replacing them with those stupid trick candles.” King Dice had snapped back, gracefully moving around the perimeter of the circle and back into what looked like a small kitchen.

“So, did you want a grand castle or something?” Devil asked his completely covered summoner. Wondering if he could get the person to break the circle so he could watch King Dice some more.

“Well, actually I was just hoping you could help me with my studies, I don’t need endless knowledge or whatever, just, I want to have enough know how to pass my classes. Studying just doesn’t work you see, I wind up forgetting everything I try to study and remember everything I don’t study. It’s horrid considering I have study hall for one of my classes and the only books I have are the ones that have class material.” The roommate had explained, casually turning between Devil and King Dice who was only half visible. The roommate got an absentminded nod, and as nonchalantly as possible, broke the circle, curious to see what would happen.

Devil, who usually slaughtered circle breakers, just shuffled out and watched King Dice move about the kitchen, clearly brewing up a potion of some sort.

“What, uh, what are you doing?” Devil had asked and King Dice had absentmindedly replied.

“I’m cooking up my grandmothers stain remover potion. There is no way the blood and soot and chalk is coming out of that wood easily without it.” Devil edged closer, and took a closer look at the die headed witch. He assumed the man was also a student, based on the roommate, and noted the apparent love of the color purple. King Dice had simple but elegant taste, and every movement had an almost silky quality of grace.

“I can clean it for you. Being Lord of Hell and all.” Devil may have sounded a bit too eager because King Dice had arched a brow and had given him a look he’d never seen before. Unimpressed and entirely unamused.

“Mr. Devil, or whatever you prefer, no amount of scrubbing is worth selling my soul for, nor is it your job to clean up a mess that isn’t yours.” King Dice hefted the pot up and Devil watched a strange pink liquid swirl within it. “Besides, if there’s one thing I don’t like,” King Dice paused to eye Devil’s scruffy grease covered fur, “It’s people being forced to clean up after others. If you think for one second I’m letting you clean up after my roommate, then I worry for you. Now if you’re wondering where you leave the dishes, just leave them in the circle. My roommate will clean them up.” With that, King Dice swept past him. Devil picked up the scent of rose and cinnamon, and had fallen so hard in love at the exact second he watched King Dice whack the roommate with a washcloth until the roommate stopped laughing and started cleaning.

The second his first symbol vanished, he was back in hell, but he could feel a link ensuring he would be tied to the roommate, whose name he’d never gotten oddly enough. He thought it had been because the deal had been to ensure the roommate passed their classes. As it turned out, it was due to him owing King Dice for the food and drink. Hell had taken one look at him upon his return and had heaved and rolled with laughter. Demons in unfortunate places were squashed, souls were tossed about, Wheezy lost half his mustache, it way mayhem.  Devil did not care, he was far too excited and happy and enamored to care.

Good for him was the fact that King Dice, raised by a family that demanded a certain politeness towards guests, had the nasty habit of offering Devil something from snacks to drinks to conditioners that would make him more presentable and less greasy.

“I don’t mean to be rude you see, but the last time you were here you left a grease stain of your ass on the couch and it took five goes of the stain remover to get it out. So, here you are, in case Hell doesn’t have soap. No offense to Hell.” And the fact that King Dice hadn’t been afraid to tell him, hadn’t shown an ounce of fear or desire to use Devil just made Devil fall harder. That may be the reason he had responded the way he had.

“Yes but was it a nicely shaped ass print?”

“I’ve seen better in the mirror, when I’m changing. Now have a cookie, don’t sit on the couch until you bathe, and enjoy your stay.”

Devil swooned so hard he fell onto the couch and left a full body print. King Dice had cussed. The roommate had laughed. Hell violently spewed fire out of every pit from rolling so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I frankly think Devil actually loves it when someone isn't afraid, but isn't disrespectful to him. King Dice comes off as the sort to love watching people get curb stomped by their own mistakes but never actually making it worse. So if Devil had decided to murder his roommate, well who would King be to stop the all cruel lord of Hell? And Hell, the roomie that Inkwell never wanted but got anyway and is basically stuck with. Some say Inkwell will one day find a way to move so it can jack with Hell. Who knows if that will ever happen though. Hot damn phantom express is old.


	11. Adoptions and mausoleum visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An action packed week shows no signs of calming down. Which sucks for poor Cuphead and Mugs.

Cuphead slowly came out of a slumber full of nothing but peaceful black. He laid still for a few moments, taking in his surroundings lackadaisically. Behind him, he heard the quiet tone of his brother’s voice and the less quiet responses from someone else. Some growing part of him was awful frantic about the fact that his brother wasn’t next to him but sleep addled as he was, everything was taking a second to settle. That is, until the remaining effects of the star piece faded and his memories bashed down the door with a battering ram made of reality. He snapped up, the soul liquid in his head sloshing violently and nearly spilling out. Twisting around he spotted the bright and new silver gown first. Then he realized his brother was leaning against the forest spirit’s wrist and scrambled to get up. Mugs perked up at the sound and cheerfully waved to his brother.

“Cuphead! Good evening, brother!” Mugs said, going to stand on shaky legs. His movements were edged with sluggish, almost newborn deer levels of clumsy. The fact that Mugs seemed quite content to use the flower as a crutch meant Cuphead had missed the scolding the flower likely got. Inkwell gave him an affirmative and he groaned. He still hurried over to his brother, eager to see whether Mugs was _really_ fine or just faking it. Cagney, who had gained one eye while Cuphead was out, watched him, very carefully not so much as twitching a single petal. Cuphead still scowled at him. Mugs may be relatively quick to forgive, Cuphead was not. Inkwell cooed at him, trying to soothe his ruffled feathers. Mugs, having a pair of eyes and knowing his brother the way he did, stepped in as well.

“So, Uncle Cagney has apologized numerous times to me. But brother, he’s been giving me this drink that’s apparently wonderful for replenishing soul liquid and I haven’t been allowed by either him or Inkwell to go more than a handful of minutes without having a drink of the stuff. Please tell them to calm down.” Mugs said, giving his brother doe eyes. Of course, it worked. Cuphead still punched Cagney’s arm though, the spot he could reach.

“Let me check.” Cuphead grumbled, a bit put out that he’d missed the scolding and hadn’t been able to participate. Mugs dutifully removed his head and offered his brother a clear view. While not as high as it was before, it was far better than where it had been, and for that, Cuphead was thankful. He checked over where the cracks had been with the scrutiny of a jeweler. Pleasantly surprised that the cracks were gone and the porcelain smooth, he prodded here and there. Mugs let his brother have free reign, even lifting the skirt a bit to show him where the lower crack on his leg had been. It too, was gone. And if it was gone, then the others were most likely gone as well. So Cuphead’s next mode of action was to hug his brother as tightly as he dared. Mugs was lifted clear off the ground but that didn’t stop him from returning the hug full force.

Reasonably sure Mugs wasn’t at risk of going comatose from soul liquid shortage, he set Mugs back down against Cagney and let the two fill him in on what he’d missed. He had indeed missed the scolding, Cagney still seemed to be reeling from it, Cuphead was not surprised. Lady’s were always taught to use their words as weapons before anything else. Mugs could scold like no other he’d seen, and he was willing to bet his short sword the other ladies were just as good as his brother. Which made it all the more disappointing that he’d missed it.

“So,” Cuphead spoke up after he figured he’d gleaned enough to have a solid grasp of the situation. “You half died, Mugs brought you back by refueling you, you freaked out, and you got the closest to killing my brother.” Cuphead drawled. Mugs absent mindedly rubbed where the break had been on his arm. Cagney drooped, an embarrassed and entirely apologetic whine rising from the back of his throat.

“That’s correct.” Cagney replied. He had no way to tell what the Knight would decide for his fate. Sure, the Lady had, to Cagney’s surprise, forgiven him after verbally knocking his… well everything, into the dirt. However, based on the last time he’d seen a Knight and Lady, the Knight had made all decisions unless it came to diplomacy in terms of helping others. That Lady had been rather docile too and he recalled hearing that she died a few years after running into him. This Lady was far from docile it seemed. He was also far too eager to call him ‘Uncle Cagney’, which, Cagney was pretty sure meant he’d just been adopted by the Lady of Inkwell.

“Also, apparently, you’re our uncle? That’s quite the family tree we got!” Cuphead eyed his brother with a dirty expression and Mugs quickly responded.

“No, brother, hear me out, he’s a part of Inkwell just as much as we are, right? So, since we’re all children of Inkwell, he’s our uncle! He isn’t blood related but there is relation!” Mugs carefully lifted himself up once more, his body still regaining lost function, and grabbed Cuphead’s arm.

“Mugs, again, he near killed you. I-“

“I know Cuphead, but he really didn’t mean it, and he hasn’t moved since we last fell asleep. Please, I know he broke me worse than the time I fell down the stairs but _please._ He’s apologized to me and to Inkwell and he’s nice.” Mugs pleaded. Cuphead didn’t lose the dirty expression, but he did arch an eyebrow.

“You promised something didn’t you.” He said, suspicion clear in his tone. Mugs sheepishly looked down, and Cuphead groaned.

“Mugs, really? Why? You didn’t pull this with the other garden gang!” Cuphead, reasonably upset that his brother hadn’t woken him up for numerous things that were important, was less than impressed.

“They weren’t the same, first of all. Second of all, Uncle Cagney said he’d help us out. As a penance of sorts, if we ever need his help, I just have to send out a call and he’ll come. If someone like him is helping, I don’t have to worry as much about you fighting alone. What if I use too much magic and faint or something? Uncle Cagney could help. _Please,_ Cuphead.” Mugs’ tone was desperate and he looked imploringly at his brother. He hoped his sibling would accept the deal. After waking up the second time, he’d only been able to think about how if Cuphead had been closer to him, Cuphead would have gone down too. They would have died right on the spot and Inkwell would have to bother their mother and father. Frankly, Mugs was willing to break down crying if it meant Cuphead would agree.

Cuphead looked between him and Cagney, tossing the idea around his head and trying to see it from his brothers perspective. Based on how much Mugs wanted him to take Cagney’s peace offering, and how he’d yet to hear the promise Mugs had made to Cagney, he wasn’t too sure. Of course, his too long pause meant he heard the sniffle from his brother. He whipped his head to face his sibling, and yes, Mugs was crying, and giving him an expression he’d never been able to say no to.

“I can’t believe you’d go that far for this.” Cuphead glowered, and though he could have, he didn’t shake his brothers hands off him despite his ire. “Fine. Welcome to the family, Uncle Cagney. I- oof!” Cuphead was bowled over by his brother, and the two were caught by one quickly raised thumb of Cagney’s. Mugs enthusiastically chanted ‘thank you’ to Cuphead, not bothered by the flailing or the relieved and amused expression on Cagney’s face. Inkwell rumbled under them, a pleased purr by giant landmass standards. After much enthusiastic hugging the brothers settled. Cagney, able to see now, rose to his full height. He removed his hands from the ground and stretched out.

He easily towered over them, and though the copious number of vines and leaves and such were now gone, he still cut an imposing figure. Cuphead could see why Mugs would like Cagney too, Mugs was always weak for flower related things. Cuphead just hoped Cagney would actually be helpful, he’d never seen a forest spirit fight before. He knew they could, he’d just never seen it himself, and thus, had no idea if they were good or not. Well he figured he’d find out sooner or later. For now, it was still night time, his brother was fine, already having another dose of the medicine being shoved at him, and Cagney seemed perfectly content to watch over them. Before Cuphead even knew it, he was back asleep.

\---0---0---0---

Once dawn had broken, and Cuphead had woken up again, the two had talked with Cagney for a bit before trying to figure out where to go next. Cagney, easily towering over the treeline, had pointed out a few things he could see from the garden. At the mention of a fancy mausoleum, the brothers eagerly made that their target. It was tradition to visit the mausoleums of the former Knights and Ladies. Though they didn’t know which one it was, they figured it couldn’t hurt to stop by. Inkwell didn’t seem to be urgently pulling them in any other direction, so it wasn’t like they didn’t have time.  Cagney waved them off, dutifully letting Mugs hug as much of his face as he could as a goodbye. Cuphead had lightly tugged one of his petals and the two hurried off.

Cagney stuck around only long enough to see that the promise the Lady had given to him kicked in, watching the runes carve themselves into the perimeter of his garden and the trees around it grow more and more dense until it would be near impossible to get to. Satisfied his garden would be kept safe, he dove into the ground, and for the first time in his life, went to explore Inkwell.

\---0---0---0---

Being a forest spirit meant if Inkwell heard it, and decided he needed to hear it, he would. When there were sudden rumors of two people mocking the Knight of Inkwell, Inkwell took notice. In return, he took notice. Inkwell was rather prideful in its’ Knight and Lady, always had been until they disappointed it or betrayed it. Much like a parent watching their children head off and make something of themselves, really. Needless to say, it would be no surprise that the moment it got wind of a town mocking and smearing its’ Knights name, it was livid. While it could have just launched the entire town into the air and left it at that, that took energy and it was very likely that its’ Lady and Knight would see that. It didn’t want to disappoint the two by not telling them about it but they were heading in the opposite direction. So it sent Cagney.

He was supposed to aid the Knight and Lady, after all, as per his own deal. The other perk of being a forest spirit of Inkwell was that Cagney could pull from Inkwell directly and change his appearance from the sweet one to his far more aggressive one. Cagney held off on doing anything until he could clearly hear what was happening. It seemed like there was an underground fighting ring of sorts, based on what he could see from a hole in the dirt wall. It was dingey, and filled with smoke, the vents carved into the rock ceiling above weren’t enough to clear the air fully. In the center, surrounded by various bug people of all sorts, he saw two amphibians. Based on his knowledge of the small versions, these two were most likely acting as pest control. He wondered if they’d settle whatever rude remarks were being said about his new nephews.

“That’s right! We’re so strong, why even the Knight wouldn’t last a minute!” One of them boasted, raising his arms and showing off his muscles. The crowd cheered, evidently not realizing what they were cheering for. These two must be travelers if the way they seemed to be tossing around the Knights name was anything to go by.

“Only true warriors toss aside weapons to fight man to man, fist to fist! Exchanging punches, that’s how a real man fights!” The other declared, his voice easily heard over all the cheering. Cagney pondered his options while the two continued bragging, and then fighting another boxer, and beating the fighter into the dirt so hard Cagney’s roots could feel it from where they were. He noted how they seemed to be bragging about having offered to fight the Knight, and being rejected, but Inkwell never recalled anything like it. Requests for either the Knight or Lady were always heard by it, as such, Inkwell was skeptical. Cagney, finally deciding the best option for handling these fellas in a way that would give him quite the story to tell the sweet Lady and forgiving Knight, began to grow.

\---0---0---0---

Ribby and Croaks were lapping up the attention. After becoming decently famous in their home nation, they were gleefully expanding their name to other countries. They’d heard rumors of Inkwell being different, having things no other nation had, and figured it would be the best place to go next. The frog siblings and worked their way inland, picking up tales and stories from around the towns they visited, finding new ways to spread their name. When Ribby heard about the Lady and Knight of Inkwell, he’d laughed. The place he and his brother had come from had guns, and there was a squeaky voiced teen-ager running around with a sword and a suit of armor. The Lady part didn’t bother them, of course a Lady would need a general escort around, especially if the dame was strolling about wearing fancy dresses.

It was only a matter of a few days of perusing through the info Ribby obtained that they decided to start their claims of besting the Knight. There was no way the kid would ever know, and if he did indeed find out, they’d knock him around and make their claims legitimate. Hell, they’d even take down the Lady, it’d be even less of a challenge, but the idea that the dirt they were walking on was partial to one gal and guy was silly. They traveled town to town, spreading the rumor to the people that mattered, the boxing fans, and soon, more and more actually came to take them on. There had been a few towns that not only didn’t take them seriously, but had been hostile once hearing their claims, but that was why the brothers just spoke to true boxing fans now.

This town was their most recent, it was also their biggest hit thus far. They’d even discovered they’d gained a small following, which was rather nice. They had fought a few wannabe boxers and tossed a few tips in with the beat downs and were currently waiting for the next challenger to step into the ring. What they didn’t expect, was for the ground under them to start shaking. Then what looked like huge vines tore through the rock ceiling and started lifting the entire room up. There was screaming, people lunging to get out of the underground room, and vines everywhere. A few short jolts later, the roof was torn clean off and the sides of the room topped over. Vines rolled under their feet and hefted the ring into the air and finally they could see what was causing it.

“Well, look at the weeds I found trying to hide!” The entirely too massive flower creature said, far too sharp grin full of ungodly sharp teeth. The behemoth plant with only one eye hovered over them, vines coiling around and sharp spikes digging lines into the ground below. Those that could fly, did, fleeing from the thing as fast as they could. Ribby and Croaks just stared with slack jawed awe.

“I tell you tadpoles what, you want a fist fight courtesy of Inkwell? You got a _deal._ ” With that, He raised fists that were easily as big as Ribby, crushed a piece of rock within one hand, and that’s when the two screamed.

\---0---0---0---

Rumors would say that the current Lady was so great, he’d managed to talk a forest spirit into leaving their home to travel and protect him and the Knight when the two weren’t there. Others said that the Knight was so formidable he bested the forest spirit and made it into a guard-plant. What was a sure fact however, was that the first time the forest spirit made an appearance was the first time anyone had seen frogs fly.

\---0---0---0---

Cuphead, far from any flying amphibians, was too busy laughing at his brother to do anything regal or formidable. Of course, despite the protections Inkwell had given his brother, Mugs had managed to find the one dip in the road that was deeper than it looked. Mugs was currently staring off into the distance, wondering if he could shove his brothers face into the pool he’d just managed to climb out of. Maybe, he thought, he could make it harmless in effort. That would allow him the chance to grab Cuphead’s stupid laughing head and bury his stupid laughing head under the water. Inkwell just bemoaned the stained dress. It had loved how the silver looked and it was far too soon to find another one for its Lady. It certainly didn’t want to bring out the fear fixing dress it had stored away.

“Maybe one of the Ladies…” Mugs had to pause to let his brother continue laughing.

“You…!” Cuphead choked, “Right outside! Right outside the mausoleum!” He burst out laughing once more, clutching his sides and doubling over. “You… you’re gonna meet the other Ladies…looking like you just swam in mud!” Mugs, unable to take it anymore, shoved his sibling and gleefully watched Cuphead tip over into the disguised pool.

“And now you get to meet the other Knights looking like you picked a fight with a golem and lost.” Mugs teased, suddenly not minding the way his gown was sticking to his legs uncomfortably. Inkwell tried to send a blast of air to dry the dress off…and sent the quite surprised Lady back into the pool. Cuphead who had been half out, immediately slipped back down, laughing too hard to stay mad. Inkwell wailed, leaves shaking and trees creaking. The silver dress was a goner at this point, and it had to go find a new one. The brothers heaved themselves out of the pit. Inkwell, in another effort to help, used the footsteps of the two to find where the pit was, and hefted up the ground to reduce the size of the pool. Water immediately shot into the air and drenched them once more. Mugs screamed. Cuphead cheered.

\---0---0---0---

As per tradition, and after getting drenched twice more by sudden downpours and windstorms, the two entered the mausoleum. Mugs, still muddy and highly unamused, dress wrinkled to high hell and splotched brown, debated doing the rest of the tradition. This was the mausoleum for the best of the best Knights and Ladies. The ones adored by the people and cherished for how effective they’d been before either natural causes or other means had taken them down.

“I really don’t. This… I look like I’m wearing cow print!” Mugs said, gesturing sharply to his poor dress. Cuphead snorted, of course he’d be more okay with having a mud bath. His chainmail could take the beating and his cherry red brigandine didn’t let the brown mud show up as clearly. Sure, his pants were stained same as Mugs, but it was just the pants and the undershirt below the chainmail and brigandine.

“Brother, you know how it goes, you have to raise them. We stepped in, so you have to. Besides, it isn’t that bad.” Cuphead said, his voice far too light and amused for Mugs taste. However, he had a point, and though Mugs didn’t believe him, he lit the building up, and they watched the tombs shake and the room burst to life.

The mausoleums and the souls brought back were unique in that, instead of bringing the bodies back, it would be the souls themselves. This was due to some of the bodies simply rotting away too far to be brought back properly. On one side, the right, were the Knights, the five in the building they were in readily answered the call and burst into the room. The Ladies, six of them, responded eagerly as well, but appeared in a tad more refined manner.

“It’s wonderful to know a new set is…. Are… is the latest fashion dressing like cattle?” The fourth Knight, the first to speak, the first to say anything, also said the one thing Mugs hoped he wouldn’t.

“Inkwell.” Was all he said in return. Immediately, every lady and two of the knights let out knowing ‘oh’s’. The rest laughed. Mugs decided he didn’t like them. The exact second the Knights caught sight of the swords and armor, Mugs knew they’d be talking about that for a while. It was a joke his mother had explained to him. Each Lady and Knight would wind up speaking to their respective side for a while and then speak together after. It was no wonder he wandered towards the Ladies then. The knights certainly didn’t mind.

\---0---0---0---

“Well it was thanks to those two Ladies that mother dragged us into every sort of incident involving romance to show us how crazy it could make people. It was terrifying and I swore under oath I’d never ever fall in love.” Mugs told the women who stared at him in slack-jawed awe. A moment later they burst out laughing or, in the case of the fifth Lady, gave him a sympathetic pat. The seventh, the most loved of them all, wiped a tear from her porcelain face. Her gold eyes alight with amusement.

“Oh my, that’s quite the upbringing you were given!” She said, her cherry red painted lips pulled into a friendly grin. Mugs shrugged.

“Well at least I won’t have to worry about falling out of favor for various reasons!” He said, glad for a distraction to the mud and dirt still clinging to the stockings. He hated how the fabric was pulling. The eighth Lady, a dove, started spinning a tale, clearly noticing his problem and happy to fix it. They all knew a new dress was likely being picked out, but until then, the women would do their best to make the situation better. It’s what a Lady did, after all.

\---0---0---0---

“So I threw it and hit the jerk clear in the eye. After that it was as easy as dodging a couple of lame punches and drawing a line and Inkwell took care of the rest!” Cuphead bragged, and the knights nodded in approval. The fourteenth Knight, known for his prowess with throwing daggers and axes, even gave him a hearty pat on the back best a ghost could. Then again, the fourteenth was also known to approve of any Knight or Lady throwing anything pointy or sharp.

“But, boy I don’t know how you fella’s managed it. The whole gross thing with Inkwell and gross people. Did any of you figure out how to get Inkwell to screen that stuff? It’s fine enough knowing someone wants to take a swing at Mugs, I just don’t want to know the other things they want to do.” Cuphead leaned back against the third’s tomb. The Knights shared a look with one another and shrugged.

“Well I’ll tell you what, once I realized it was just like a fellow seeing a particularly sharp throwing dagger or a woman seeing a dress she liked, it was far easier to tolerate.” The fourteenth said, and the other knights gained haunted looks.

“You bring up a fair point, it really is even worse when the women notice the dress. I thought the hostility was coming from an aggressive potential suitor a few times. But no! it’s just a woman seeing the dress or wanting to claw your sister’s eyes out for some unknown reason! The wife of a noble just about made me cut her hands off with how out of line she got with my poor sister.” The eighth Knight shuddered, his feathers fluffing up in residual horror. The others nodded, and when Cuphead just gave them confused looks, shared a sympathetic glance between each other and wished Cuphead luck.

\---0---0---0---

“So, dearie, how is your Knight? Not to be cruel, Chalice.” The fourteenth Lady asked, sending an apologetic smile to the seventh. Chalice, whose face suddenly darkened considerably, her lips curling up in a snarl, dropped the expression and waved her hand in a gesture to continue. No one really liked remembering how one of the only two Knights in the third and decrepit mausoleum was her brother. The traitor Knight. Mugs awkwardly coughed, clearing a throat he didn’t have, and tried to figure out how to lighten the atmosphere. Chalice was legendary for numerous reasons, her brutal fighting methods and righteous temper easily one of the biggest.

“Well, He’s done his job so far, I’m still here aren’t I? I certainly can’t complain about much that isn’t normal sibling stuff. One time I hid his head in a storage room and he cried, but because I stuck near his body I got out of trouble because I technically hadn’t left my Knight’s side.” He told them, happy to see Chalice’s demeanor shift to a friendlier one.

The level of hate she had for her coward of a brother was another reason for her legendary status. The other Ladies gleefully latched onto the story and offered up some embarrassing tales of their own brothers. None dared try to bring up the effectiveness of their Knights though. The knights across the way, well aware of Chalice’s rage, still kept an eye out. Though Knights could not hurt their own Ladies, there was nothing in the rules that said a Lady or Knight could not hurt another Lady or another Knight.

\---0---0---0---

Chalice, though not participating in the talk of siblings, did listen to the new Lady with a fond smile on her face. She did enjoy meeting the new Ladies and grew happier upon seeing none of the other Knights follow her sorry excuse for a brother’s way. He’d left her to die after being surrounded by an invading force. They’d fought, or rather, she’d fought until her head had split down the middle and her spear broke off in the skull of a foe. She’d been able to take down half of them with help from a town that had come to aid her and her brother. Inkwell had stormed, lightning tearing from the sky and wind howling in rage. She’d done everything in her power to revive fallen soldiers to aid her as well. But without her Knight, who was supposed to be at her side, she’d been swarmed and her last vision had been of him, halfway across the river separating Inkwell from the neighboring country.

Her body had been torn to pieces before Inkwell had realized she’d fallen and stepped in. From what she’d been told, Inkwell had given those in the know about it only one warning. The townsfolk had fled as fast as they could, and then Inkwell showed just what a landmass could do. The invading force had been **crushed.** It lobbed the remains back over the river, one body crashed into the king of the other country and killed him. That country still refused to send even a palace servant over the river to them if the last Lady was to be believed.

 She’d raged for a century and raged even harder upon realizing she’d never get her revenge on him. He had been buried too far away from her. He’d managed to avoid being utterly destroyed by Inkwell for his betrayal by fleeing and staying gone until he’d been too tired to stay away, four centuries later. By then, his name was written in the books and he was hated, not only by Inkwell, but by just about everyone in Inkwell. It wasn’t enough though, not to her. It would never be enough until she could get her hands on his soul and tear it to shreds. She couldn’t leave the mausoleum as she was however. She’d be returned to the afterlife as soon as she tried leaving the tomb. The only way she’d be able to leave is if she somehow regained a vessel.

She so did love when new Ladies visited. It was a chance for her to get what she needed so she could do what she wanted.

\---0---0---0---

The two groups wound up getting together in the center of the room after another hour. The brothers eagerly listened to the shared battle stories and the advice given by those that had done their job before them. At some point, Inkwell had finally gotten a new gown picked out, and now the debate was how best to get Mugs changed. Fellow Knights and Ladies they may be, they weren’t his sibling, and it would be very indecent. It was Chalice that came up with a proper idea. She mentioned how she still had her toga from her burial and it could unravel enough to act as a sheet. After carefully removing it from her tomb, shaking it off a bit, a few stray bits of ash and dust from her body making Mugs sneeze a few times, she and another Lady, who looked suspicious, held it up.

It took a minute for him to change and he’d have to find stockings in the next town, but the soft pale violet dress was pretty and light. It was when he was trying to fold the toga back up when Inkwell suddenly snapped alert. Mugs sneezed again, just barely avoiding sneezing in the direction of the open tomb and tried to hurry and put the toga back properly. Something made his arm jerk forward, and his foot caught on the dress hem and he went flat into the remains. Cuphead stood up, about to tease Mugs for being clumsy when Inkwell let out a low rumble. It was deep, and the building shook with the movement. Lady Mugs stumbled out, a dazed and confused expression on his face. His body wasn’t responding and his soul felt slimy. He swore there was an odd pressure in the air, but then his vision began to cut to a strange view of a door surrounded by black and he tried turning to tell Cuphead.

“Cup….Brother…” He weakly called out, and then, he collapsed. Cuphead launched across the room, and Inkwell let out another deeper rumble.

“Where’s Chalice!?” One of the Ladies cried out. The Knights, all tinged a sickly green and as nervous as they’d been in life when they’d had ties to Inkwell, immediately began looking for her. The eighth Lady hovered near the current Lady, a heavily suspicious gaze aimed at the open tomb and the dust covering him. Just as she noticed the one difference that Cuphead noticed at the exact same time, three things happened.

The first was the door being blown off and sent to the ground, narrowly missing two of the tombs. The second was a horse, breathing hellfire and billowing thick black smoke rearing up and shrieking the way no natural horse could. The third was Mugs eyes snapping open, liquid gold instead of clear bright blue. Cuphead, who’d been wondering why Mugs soul liquid was tinged gold instead of the blue it normally was, didn’t have time to move. He was sent topping over by his brother suddenly lurching out of his arms. The eighth lady let out an impressive string of curses, the fourteenth Lady screamed.

“Chalice no!” She shouted, just as the current Lady ripped the spear from the seventh Lady’s statue and ran towards the horse awaiting him. Cuphead bolted up, and reached for his brother’s hand, dearly hoping he’d seen wrong. He didn’t expect his brother, or whatever, rather, whoever, was controlling his brother to twist around. Next thing Cuphead knew, he was sent skidding back into the wall. His jaw hung open, eyes wide with mute shock. His chest ached where it had been hit by his own brother kicking him back with far more force than he should have been able to use. He looked up at his brother, at the golden eyes, and heard the Eighth Lady cry out for Inkwell to do something. The fourteenth Knight demanded Chalice stop what she was doing, how it was entirely out of character and wrong. The snarl and dark glare the thing twisted his brothers face into had unmitigated wrath crawling up Cuphead’s spine.

“Do you think I care? I’m not going to kill this one, but my brother? My Knight? _I’m going to tear him apart.”_ Chalices voice came out of his brother’s mouth, and he finally realized why Inkwell was rolling and rumbling. A Lady had fallen, and yet not. A soul had broken the law of Inkwell and harmed the Lady, but it was another Lady. Inkwell was at a loss, it couldn’t harm the soul, that would mean harming the Lady. The Lady that had done no wrong and so Inkwell couldn’t even begin to think of breaking. He barely realized his body was moving, hoping that if he could pin Mugs down they’d be able to purge Chalice from him. Instead, Chalice in Mugs body focused her cold golden gaze on him and, quicker than he could even blink, snatched his head off his shoulders and shoved it into a vase. She then bodily threw Cuphead’s own body over her shoulder and it crashed into the back wall.

“You aren’t my Knight, you’ve no _chance, **boy**._ Stay down here like a good Knight and let the Lady bring peace to a poor soul.” She told him, her voice cutting through the porcelain of the vase. He faintly heard the horse whinny, and then hoofbeats thunder off into the distance. The mausoleum went abruptly silent, without the Lady nearby, there was nothing keeping the others connected, and they were dragged back down.

It would be Cagney that found his body stumbling around, unable to find the vase without a visual or even an idea as to where it was. He’d carefully dug Cuphead’s head out and, between Inkwell’s confused and upset shrieks and cries, got the gist of everything from a very shaky Knight.

“This has been the worst damn week.” Cuphead weakly hissed, and Cagney gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. Finally, a few minutes later, Inkwell gathered its wits enough to find the nearest horse and send it his way. Five minutes after that, and even more frazzled because he wasn’t near his Lady; his Lady had been possessed by another Lady and was in trouble and he wasn’t near his Lady. The horse arrived, Cagney dove under the earth, promising to follow behind and or try and get ahead and protect the possessed Lady, whichever became more necessary. Cuphead who was not near his Lady, who needed to return to his Lady because if he didn’t he’d find his Lady dead or wounded. His Lady who he wasn’t near, and who was heading towards the third mausoleum, the place of the disgraced Knights and Ladies.

It really had been the worst damn week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well gee, it really has been a rough week for the two. Though, they do now have an ally in the form of a nice Carnation. Uncle Cagney is best uncle. Yes, that really is all the time ribby and croaks are gonna get. If you wanted to see more of them, sorry. Mugs really did adopt him based on a few things, the biggest being he's added help. He's trying something different, something Lady's don't really ever think because they're trained and raised to believe all they need is their knight. While all well and good, Mugs is never one to say no to added protection for the both of them. Chalice! Fierce warrior she may be, she's got a whole lot of wrath building up in her, at least seven centuries worth. No, you don't have to recall any of the Ladies. None but Chalice are really important. That's why I barely described any of them.


	12. Deals with hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summoning day on King Dices trip! There's no possible way this could go poorly.

Today was the day that Devil had been dreading most. The teacher had drawn out the generic summoning circle, something that would call to whatever decided it wanted to answer. Normally Devil wouldn’t give a single fuck what King Dice’s class was doing. Except because he was there, it was highly likely _shenanigans_ would happen. He knew for a fact that King Dice wasn’t going to _not_ participate, he’d made it quite clear he had to.

“Nothing happened the last time I did this. I don’t see why you being here would make this any different.” King Dice had told him, waving off his concerns with only a tinge of worry. Devil, normally one to just let mortals get what comes to them, simply couldn’t bring himself to want that for King Dice. It wasn’t that he was arrogant, he just didn’t know what Devil’s presence could bring. Pirouletta figured she’d give it a try as well.

“Mr. King Dice, I don’t quite think you understand. My boss being here means less desirable things will be wondering why he’s so close to a circle.” She said, and Devil wondered why he hadn’t just worded it like that instead of the increasingly huffy ‘I wouldn’t if I were you’ he’d been saying. Then again, it wasn’t his fault. He’d been trying to warn King Dice while King Dice had been getting changed and ready for the day. So he was easily distracted by watching someone with no body fill out their clothing, it wasn’t something he saw every day so he felt justified.

“I’ll go ask the teacher if we can draw our own for this, if he says no, then whatever happens will happen.” He finally said, and promptly wandered off to do just that. Devil idly pat Pirouletta on the back a couple times and began climbing the nearest tree to the circle. He was starting to figure out that King Dice was absolutely one that believed in tossing the dice into the air and letting luck take it from there. Devil, however, had never been a big believer in giving everything over to Lady Luck without making a few adjustments of his own. If King Dice couldn’t use the circle to summon Pirouletta, he’d be ready to go at whatever answered his future spouse’s call.

\---0---0---0---

The answer had been no, based on the teacher not wanting to watch people try and have a magic measuring contest to see who was more badass or strong. King Dice had sent both Devil and Pirouletta an apologetic glance and had then asked to go last, just in case. The teacher had agreed and so the group had been watching the various summons come out. Devil, perched in the tree as he was, idly wondered if he was overreacting. Sure, anything could come out, but Hell wouldn’t permit anything hyper dangerous from leaving, not if it wanted to keep being friends with Inkwell.

He watched the circle flare to life over and over, amused at the creatures that would respond. He was entirely amused by the metaphorical fountain of bunnies that had burst out of the circle and had everyone ducking for cover. He was even more amused by the person that had summoned a water nymph. It was only because of a tree being in the way that King Dice was one of the only ones that avoided getting drenched by the creature. Pirouletta had adamantly stuck by King Dice’s side, apparently taking a liking to him and being more than willing to defend him if needed. Thus far, she’d kicked four bears and three creatures Devil didn’t even know what to make heads or tails of. Devil wondered if she was just having fun beating the shit out of weird things that got too close to King Dice. Though King Dice was starting to wonder why things kept wanting to sniff him. Devil had no intention of letting him know it was because he’d rubbed himself all over King Dice’s clothes earlier, marking King Dice as his in a way animals or scent reliant demons would understand.

The roommate was exempt from having to summon of course, Devil was there after all, clear proof the roommate could. King Dice, unable to maintain a summon for very long, would have had to even if he’d summoned Pirouletta that morning. Watching the various thing eased Devil. If nothing horrible had come out yet, he wondered if the spot they were at was simply not near any of the hot spots linked up to Hell. If that was the case he had no reason to worry. With that thought in mind, he eased into a far less tense position on his branch and rested his head on his chin. Even when King Dice finally stepped up, he remained loose limbed.

\---0---0---0---

King Dice wasn’t overly fond of summoning. The things he summoned always varied greatly simply because of his magic and his special qualities. As such, when he strode to the edge of the circle, humming with magic from how much it had been used, he called up his pink die, and tossed it into the center. It bounced a few times, and he arched a brow at the six. It scattered into the lines, and next thing anyone knew the gates of what could only be Hell itself were bubbling up and unhinging, allowing the creatures from the depths to peek up. Hell indeed hadn’t let anything horrible answer the summon because _it_ had answered.

Devil above let out a surprised screech and toppled off his perch, smashing into nearly every branch along the way. King Dice would have been amused if it hadn’t been for the tiny imp staring at him. Then others started popping up. Wave upon wave of burning air pulsed out, the scent of blood and, oddly enough, wine, filling the clearing.

“Is that Boss’s wife?” One peeped out, voice high pitched and tiny. King Dice stared at it, wide eyed.

“Yeah, see the purple?” Another said, reaching one tiny hand out to the edge of the circle and pointing at his vest.

“Excuse you? Did you just say _wife_?” King Dice, finally figuring out how to work his jaw once more, said incredulously.

“No wait I don’t see Boss’s mark on him anywhere.”

“You idiot he doesn’t have flesh to mark!”

“Well then what would Boss use?”

“I heard from the newcomers they use rings or cows. Dowry I think they called it”

“Why hasn’t Boss given him a few cows then?”

“No you give the cow to the father apparently.”

“Would you rats shut up!” Devil, recovering from his shortcut down the tree, shrieked. His pitchfork flashed into his hands, and King Dice and his classmates were treated with the image of the lord of hell playing what amounted to a plus size version of whack-a-mole. There were thwacks, there were whines, there were rumbles from what could only be Hell itself.

“Wife? Just what have you been chatting about down there?!” King Dice, entirely uncaring of the display, hissed out.

“Oh he’s upset.”

“I bet cows were offered and his pa didn’t accept them.”

“Hell cows are huge though! Who would reject them!?”

“What if it was a regular cow he offered? People up here keep sending them and goats to us.”

“Hey I’m just glad they stopped the newborn baby phase.”

“I’m not, how is the Boss going to adopt? Do you see any way for his wife to bear kids?”

“You’re all going in the deepest pit!” Devil screeched, growing more arms to just start shoving the imps down. Pirouletta strode forward and squinted.

“Boss, I think I see the others down there too.” She said, spotting a flash of Wheezy’s light. Devil hissed, and the sound of someone shouting

“Scatter!” Broke through the imps’ constant talking. King Dice felt his roommate stumble up to his side. His roommate nearly toppled over from how hard they were laughing, and King Dice found himself unable to hold onto his indignation.

“The good news is Boss has good taste!”

“Yeah that’s something at least, the purple will go great with all the red we have down here!”

“Oh hell no. If I am going to be anyone’s wife, I’m not living surrounded by red. Violet and red simply do not get along.” King Dice interjected, watching Devil smack that imp back down into hell. The tips of Devil’s ears were flushed bright red and he looked like he wanted to curl up and hide under a rock for a few centuries. King Dice found it amusing.

“I’ll tell you what,” He stepped up to the edge of the circle and held up his hand. Devil’s pitchfork stopped a mere breath away from his fingertips. “If you can change the décor a bit, add some golds, maybe some silver, I’ll consider going on a date with him. Oh, and if you do something about that smell. There’s simply no way I’d agree to even think of marrying anyone whose home would clash so much with my color and style.” He said, and though he was half joking, he swore he felt Hell itself do the same thing Inkwell did when gaining interest. Everyone knew the thing, it was a strange, almost oppressive, but not hostile weight suddenly descending on the thing of interest. He really hoped it was Inkwell doing the thing and not literal Hell.

Of course, before he or Devil or anyone else could do anything, the circle suddenly lost its glow. Evidently King Dice had reached his time limit. Pirouletta, who had somehow pulled out a pen and paper from Inkwell knew where, was frantically writing and eyeing his outfit and his face. He got the feeling he’d made a grave mistake, based on the wide grin his roommate was giving him and the disbelieving expressions a few other classmates were giving him. The ones that hadn’t been laughing too hard to hear anything, that is. That was the moment he realized he’d just made a deal with Hell itself. He wondered if it was too early to jump into the lake and stay there for a century or two.

\---0---0---0---

Devil, embarrassed, enraged, and yet a little eager to see what Hell was sending him annoying prods and pokes for, dove back into Hell the moment King Dice was finally asleep. He expected maybe a few more pools of liquid gold, maybe a blue streamer here and there. What he didn’t expect, was to appear in what looked like a grand entrance. Light wood floors with gold rugs stretched as far as his eye could see. There was a massive elaborately carved staircase before him. Muted red curtains hung from golden rods. Light gray paint added accents here and there to the new face of Hell. Hell itself seemed awful proud. The imps, panting and laying sprawled across vases and whatnot, all looked pleased.

In its own way, Hell spoke to him.

“Go get that date, and remember, bathe, don’t lick yourself clean.”

Devil, unable to begin to understand what he was seeing, fainted right on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right folks, Hell itself takes the crown for 'best wingman'. Except, I guess this would be "best wingland" instead. Either way, King Dice has to go on a date now. He is a man of his word after all. At least when it comes to upholding bargains with literal Hell. The downside to this is Devil can't string up his lackeys with the new setup. Their pelts would clash something fierce with the ritz Hell has going on. It's days like these that I wish i was better at animating, because the image of Devil playing an upgraded version of whack-a-mole is hilarious. As a side note, I've been tossing in a few hints as to what King Dice is here and there, but this one I really kicked it up. Much like how everyone else is a sort of creature or being, King Dice is too. I wonder if anyone can guess what he is before I reveal it later. You've got plenty more hints and time to guess.


	13. Revenge in a dish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is served full force, and the start of a relaxing but quick vacation begins. Too much excitement can really drag one down after a while.

Inkwell kept Cuphead well up to date on just where the hell-horse—and just where or when Chalice got ahold of a hell-horse, he’d love to know—while he and Cagney raced to catch up. A more rational part of his mind reminded him that Chalice had been one of three warrior-like Ladies. So, realistically, out of all of the Ladies of the past, she was one of the best ones to be the one possessing Mugs in this sort of situation. At the very least she’d know how to defend her host. What he really hoped, however, was that Mugs was giving her hell, as much of it as he could. He never did like being told to sit quietly and do as told.

\---0---0---0---

The obnoxious sound of a metal cup being clanged and dragged along iron bars grated on both occupants of the same body. If asked whether the two cared, one would plainly say ‘no’, and the other would give a stare down that would leave the one asking such a useless question a sobbing mess. As there was no one around to ask that question, the act continued without pause. Mugs, stuffed behind what could only be described as a vault door with iron bars placed at face level to look through, had been using the tin cup as protest for the last fifteen minutes. After realizing his situation and deciding that Chalice had a few cracks in more than just her face, he’d forgone being polite.

He’d tried talking to her, reasoning even, but that had only ended with threats of taking the bars away. Mugs was bored. He distinctly knew that whatever part he’d been locked in wasn’t near the part linked up to his brother. Had it been, he’d be far more of a nervous wreck. Chalice had apparently been aware of the dependency Mugs mother had instilled in him to always be near Cuphead. If there was one thing he’d sort of thank her for, it was ensuring he wasn’t losing his mind. That was paltry in comparison to what she was doing though, so the thanks would never come. Instead he aimed to make her stay as annoying and unwelcome as possible.

He’d tried breaking the door down, but everything he had tried had resulted in failure, plus a sore heel. So, there he was, against the door, dragging the metal cup back and forth with a sour expression on his face.

“You know, if that activity is boring you, you could just stop.” Chalice told him, giving him half of her attention while the rest focused on guiding the horse. Mugs gave the far more solid version of her currently standing outside his door as vicious a glare as he could.

“You know, if this is annoying you, you could just leave.” He retorted. She heaved out a sigh and rested a shoulder on some wall he couldn’t see.

“I realize this is a horrible act to pull on a fellow Lady. But, your brother is good, he cares. Mine was more interested in shady dealings that made him feel bigger than he was. He even tried amassing himself a gang of sorts. What honorable Knight hides behind thieves and murderers? A true disgrace of a warrior and paltry in comparison to me. Me! The Lady!” She grew more and more angry the longer she spoke. Mugs watched her pause to take a calming breath, figuring he had nothing better to do until he got another idea on how to get her out.

“I swear by whatever I have left as a former Lady, that I will give you back your body and never do this again. No harm will come to you as long as I can help it, just… Please. Let me put that pathetic excuse for a brother out of my misery.” She turned to fully face him, looking him dead in the eye. Mugs took a few moments to ponder his options.

On one hand he wanted to say no and continue annoying her. On the other, he understood where she was coming from. It was well recorded how atrocious that Knight had been. The man had gone down as the literal worst Knight thus far. He was hated beyond measure to the point where his name was scrubbed from the records. He was so hated that the mustache he’d worn became reviled and men all across Inkwell either shaved theirs off or grew out new styles as quickly as possible. Not a single Knight since the seventh had been raised without the enforcement of absolute loyalty to their Lady.

The man had been the true reason they’d installed this third vault in the first place. When he had returned, apparently tired of hiding and of hearing nothing but scorn from people visiting from Inkwell, they’d erected it and put what remained of him after Inkwell had dealt its own justice. After that, even while he was alive, every Knight after him was taught about his betrayal, poor choices, and mindless brutishness. Their own mother had used him as the prime example of what would happen to Mugs if Cuphead abandoned him in a battle, or in any way. He could only imagine how his brother was faring.

\---0---0---0---

Cuphead was ranting angrily to the horse. Though the horse could not understand him, and was more focused on not tripping, it was therapeutic to Cuphead. He was well aware he was finally keeping steady with the horse too far ahead to see. Inkwell already had another horse a few miles away, well aware this one was starting to foam at the mouth in exhaustion. Cuphead was just glad that at the rate he was going he’d have a shot of even catching up with his brother. He idly wished he had a faster mode of transportation. Cagney, he was sure, was going at this speed to appease Cuphead, but could go faster. He almost wanted to tell Cagney _to_ go ahead of them and tangle Chalice up until Cuphead could get there, but then what would he do? He couldn’t purge Chalice from Mugs, that was the Lady’s job.

Most he could do would be waste her time until she left. Considering the beatdown she gave him the first time he tried stopping her, he didn’t think that would end well, even with Cagney. If there was one good thing about this, besides the warrior Lady bit, it would be that Inkwell, the last time a Lady had been possessed, had waited a solid month to give the knight ample time to try and get her freed from the spirit. Sure, the guy had almost failed, but the time he had was comforting. He really hoped she’d do what she needed to do, tear the jerk of a Knight apart, and then hop off the mortal coil and stay down.

For now, he needed to be ready to switch horses as fast as possible and keep on the pace. The third Mausoleum was about half a day’s ride if one counted breaks and pitstops for the horse. Honestly, he was just glad the original designers had decided to put the mausoleums relatively close. It _could_ be on the other side of Inkwell. He spotted the next horse in the distance and changed his ranting to an endless stream of thanks to the horse for carrying him as far as it did.

\---0---0---0---

Hell-horses had no such need to worry about fatigue, they were powered by numerous other things. The wrath that Chalice was constantly spilling out for her sibling was easily enough to power it for three centuries. It continued at the same pace it had been since it started and was easily eating up the distance fast enough that Chalice was confident she’d have plenty of time for revenge. She couldn’t wait to dig her spear into his soul and carve her pathetic relative like a turkey. She was patiently waiting for the current Lady’s response as well. Chalice desperately wanted hm to agree with her, if the child did, she’d gain full access to his power and be able to really dish out some damage.

The child had been silently mulling it over in his head for the past ten minutes, but she wasn’t too nervous. She thought, in a different timeline, she might even have found the two children adorable and would have gladly showered them with her knowledge. Here and now? She simply wanted to put her rage to rest. There was a tapping sound from where she’d locked him away and she returned some of her focus to him.

“Okay, I’m willing to help you out. It is a Lady’s job after all. _That being said_ , I really must insist we wait for my brother to catch up. Maybe even Uncle Cagney could be of some help?  Your brother isn’t my Knight, so he’d be able to go after me. While I’m not saying you couldn’t defend me, I’m afraid you might be so intent on him you might not spot anything he’s put up for protection.” The child said, his gaze firm. She gave him the same even look in return, a flash of indignation spiking through her soul. It didn’t last, her brother would absolutely be the sort to desecrate the mausoleum with traps any time the other Ladies visited the place and he had the chance. She could easily fend him off, she’d done so before, but others?

“I want your word as Lady that you will let me stay in control until I’ve disposed of my brother’s soul entirely. In return, I will return your body to you without question upon getting my revenge. I will also agree to waiting for this Uncle Cagney of yours to catch up to us. Your knight, however, is far too hazardous to my goal.” She spoke. She watched him nod and the two informed Inkwell. Inkwell, glad that it had some form of protection to offer its’ little Lady, relayed the message to the Knight and forest spirit.

There was much flailing and indignation from the Knight. Cagney, however, was just pleased he could assist. Not so pleased he was assisting some dead woman that had taken over his little nephew’s body, but it was a start. He, with Inkwell’s help, carved a path through to the Lady in record time, easily catching up within four minutes what would have taken Cuphead thirty. The steed’s fiery stride thundered above him, guiding him exactly how the Knight’s horse had. With the pace steady as the hours dragged, the two in the lead were the first to spot the mausoleum in the distance. They’d arrived just as the sun was shining directly at the door, and Mugs, taking a page from Cuphead, got an idea. Chalice felt a pang of longing for the child. She dearly hoped that in some other world, in some other time, she was doting on this child at the very least.

\---0---0---0---

The door to the less kempt Mausoleum, stained a dingy yellow and heavily weathered, creaked open loud enough to wake the dead, Lady present or not. The Lady, tiny in comparison to the building, dug her heels into the stone and shoved at it harder, trying to open it fully to let as much light in as possible. Her pale lavender dress shone with a soft glow, bathed in the sun as it was. One gold eye and one blue eye looked around at the two tombs with Knights in them to the left. The seventh and the sixteenth. To the right were the three Ladies in disgrace. The current Lady’s focus was on the Knights side. Glancing around one more time, the room burst with green and yellow light and the tombs shook to life.

The first thing the two noticed was that the Ladies tombs seemed far more active than they should have been. The tombs were shaking near violently. It sounded like there was an entire army of the dead from how loud that side shook. The seventeenth Lady remained firm in stance, expression innocent, a swirl of nervousness in the Lady’s gaze. Finally, the tomb containing the seventh rocked so hard it broke its pedestal and came toppling down to the ground, the two across from it followed suit. A pink tinged ghost shot out of the broken marble, rocketing towards the ceiling with a shriek. The rather rotund man twisted around before he face planted into the stone and glared at the small figure illuminated by the daylight.

“You?! How? Wait…” He floated a bit closer, as if unsure of what he was seeing. The Lady below gave a curtsey towards him and the growing hoard of pink ghosts. The golden eye was closed, the blue staring back at the man, completely uncaring of the fact that he was surrounded. “Are… I know I felt my sister in that call. Did you pack her in your dress or something?” The man said, reaching out as if to check.

“Don’t.”

The way it was spoke, so suddenly and so plainly, made the seventh knight’s hand still.

“Uncle Cagney doesn’t like it when others touch me.” The seventeenth Lady told him, holding the curtsey unwaveringly. The seventh knight stared at him, and promptly burst into laughter. He leaned back, tiny legs kicking out wildly into the air. The others in the area, very clearly not who they should have been, laughed as well. The seventeenth Lady continued staring at him with head tilted to one side, blue eye unreadable, expression equally so.

“Oh, oh come on. You’re the new Lady? Where’s your Knight? Did they finally realize how horrible it was to force a man to defend a woman just because Inkwell demanded it? Or did he wise up and abandon you. Kid, it’s been a while since anyone has visited this place, how are things do-“ One small hand reached out and pressed a gloved finger in the air directly above his mouth. The blue eye never moved from focusing on his face.

“My Knight is here.” The child before the Seventh Knight stated. The finger moved before the seventh could react and the Lady rose out of the curtsey, demurely putting both hands so they rested across one another on the front of the skirt.

“Boy this one don’t speak much.” One of the other ghosts remarked. The rest of the ghosts agreed readily. Bolstered by his lackeys, the Seventh darted his hand out and snatched up the Lady’s right hand in a way only one brought back by the Lady could. The frigid touch didn’t even affect the child, but there was a shift in the single open eye, an almost mischievous, nigh sardonic look flashing through, not seen by those in the room. The seventh raised the hand to his mouth, his bushy white mustache brushing the glove before his lips did.

“Now, now, I forgot my manners, I’m Spectre, and this here is my spectre syndicate. We’ve been here an awful long time waiting for my sister to show up. I’m sorry doll, I must have mistaken one Lady’s call for another.” He said, giving the back of the Lady’s hand a kiss. There was a warning ring in his head, telling him he should be running for cover, but it was a small porcelain child, not even armed. Normally, he wouldn’t be allowed to hurt the kid, simply because that went against the call and the rule of Inkwell. But then, he’d never really listened to those rules. And as a Knight, he was exempt.

He stopped listening the moment he turned old enough to realize just how unfair it was for the Knight. Sure, the Lady was doted on by many, even worshipped by a few. The Knight got no such luck, they were simply the muscle barricading their sibling, treated as lesser simply because Inkwell had decided that the Lady was best suited for bringing back the dead. He hated it with such passion that, during the battle, the moment he’d gotten the chance, he’d high-tailed it across the river, knowing Inkwell would be more focused on the Lady than him. He’d spent the rest of his days gathering lackeys and souls to link to him. A trick he’d learned from his dear sister.

Now, here he was, surrounded by forty ghosts entirely loyal to him. In front of him stood a tiny, rather fragile looking Lady. The sheer fact that he heard an echo of his sister’s magic in the kid had the old jealously burning bright in him once more, and though he knew Inkwell would be enraged, he was dead. He lifted his gaze from the hand easily dwarfed by his own and followed the line of the Lady’s arm, up to the exposed shoulder, and finally to the face. One gold eye stared back at him, surrounded by black. A truly frightening and blisteringly malevolently twisted grin stretched below the gaze.

“Nice army you have there, brother. Though, much like my, well, _everything,_ **mine’s better**.” And before he had time to register his sister’s voice coming from the child’s mouth, the roof was torn clear off the building and a forest spirit of all things tossed the heavy slab of marble away like it was parchment. The flower’s face was equally malevolent, the empty socket did nothing to lessen the fear now thrumming through him. Forest spirits, attached to Inkwell as they were, were perfectly able to smack around things the living normally couldn’t. The forest spirit promptly demonstrated that, slamming one hand down behind him and crushing what had to be a third of his gang. The wall next to them suffered the same fate, crumbling like cheap limestone.

“I-“

“You’re a moron, yes, we know. No need to broadcast it more than you have. My did the years take their toll on your sorry hide. Between your ego and your waist, I have no idea how you fit through the gates of Hell.” Chalice sneered, her spear slammed down to her left, the charm on it jingling against the gauze keeping it in place. He’d forgotten she could call it to her, he really wished he hadn’t.

“Ah well, more things to carve and flay, I suppose.” Though the tone was light, the dark, terrifyingly wrathful and highly sadistic glee came through loud and clear. Spectre only had time to twist so his left side was further from the possessed child before the spear lashed out and pinned him to the floor. The stone below him cracked from the force of the blow. The forest spirit bat away the few ghosts that decided to try and attack the Lady with a casual air.

Through the remaining sunlight, past the writhing vines and massive hands and crumbling walls, splashes of ectoplasm arced out. The spear, though old as Chalice herself, was still perfectly sharp, and did as it had always done, obeying the hands of its’ Lady. Cagney looked more green than yellow and orange by the time he heard the Seventeenth Knight arrive a half hour later.

Cuphead, hearing the shrieks and unearthly screams, debated whether he wanted to try and climb over Cagney to get to his brother. The dark, sneering voice that would speak up every once in a while, to mock or hiss out insults, decided for him. He leaned against a vine and hoped Mugs wasn’t looking.

Mugs was absolutely looking, it was amazing what a Lady could do to a spirit. He had no idea that ghosts had so many layers either, though, as the current layer they were carving off Spectre’s center core drifted to the ground, he idly wondered if it was just because this ghost was rather hefty. He sort of hoped he’d never find out, realized he didn’t have near the skills this Lady did, and was content to know he’d likely never get an answer. By the time Chalice was done, the lower half of the dress was drenched in yellowish-grey ectoplasm. His gloves were abandoned off to the side, completely useless and sopping wet with ectoplasm. Chalice, too busy finally achieving centuries worth of revenge, didn’t even spare an apology.

The second the core appeared, she snapped the arms she was in control of out and small hands curled around the center of the spirit. Everything that made him up, from his memories to his dreams to his time spent alive was in the palms of her hands. Sparing the sobbing form a cold glare, far more terrifying when from the face of someone as young as Mugs, the tips of her fingers began to dig into the core. It hissed and bubbled but the porcelain remained unaffected. She began tearing the core apart, ripping and yanking the ball into tiny, slimy shreds. Pieces of the Seventh knight, who was shrieking in a way no mortal nearby would ever forget, rained down to the floor and dissipated, unable to remain whole.

She made sure to pry apart the innards of the see-through orb, leaving no piece bigger than the pinkies of the dear Lady she was hosted in. Whenever the body below her jerked, she’d twist and dodge the flailing limb. It was almost insultingly easy, but then, if she hadn’t listened to the Lady, she’d have been in a pinch.  Thinking of how she and Mugs had picked up on the hostile intent from the knight before she’d taken over, she forced a bit of healing green magic into the core. Due to its state, the magic didn’t heal it the way it should have been, it patched the pieces together in a horrible amalgamation of jagged edges and gaping holes. This way, she’d be able to prolong the suffering.

Cagney and Inkwell looked on with a mild fascination, Cuphead was glad he’d chosen not to look when the screaming and shrieking making his body rattle from unease grew twice as animalistic and loud.

\---0---0---0---

The sudden silence just about made Cuphead jump, so used to unnerving sounds of tormented souls as he was, the lack of it shocked him. He felt Cagney lower the vines that barricaded the door and despite a part of him not wanting to, he peeked in. His brother stood on the other side, splashes of ghost goo dripping from his arms all the way to his elbow. The dress was nearly covered in the stuff, but he recalled hearing about how ectoplasm was easy to get out of certain fabrics and wondered if the dress was made of the stuff. One of Mugs hands was still bent, hand hovering at chest height, clenching and unclenching.

“Uh, Lady Chalice?” He said and just about screamed when sharp golden eyes snapped up to stare at him.

“Thank you.” Chalice spoke up after a moment of silence between the two. “Thank you and I’m sorry I stuffed your head in the remains of the eighth Lady’s favorite pet griffin.” She sounded far different from before, her voice lighter and almost reverent. Though, why she sounded like that didn’t stick to Cuphead. What did stick was that he had griffin dust on his face and would be glowing red in the moonlight until he could fully wash the stuff off. The indignant shout overpowered the sound of halting laughter in Mugs voice. Chalice opened the mouth, and an ash and dust filled liquid began pouring out into the open palms below. Cagney perked up, having never seen what a Porcelain being’s soul purge looked like before.

The liquid was tinged a muddy blue and had an almost sandy quality to it. He hoped that his little nephew wouldn’t be tasting corpse for a while due to this. The more the liquid poured out, the more blue returned to the eyes, the white around them returned steadily. Cagney wondered if Cuphead was going to notice the fact that his brother was a mini water fountain right now. Cuphead did in fact notice, but he had no interest in watching something so disturbingly gross. The liquid in his palms poured down, angled so it didn’t hit the dress.

After a minute or two, it was Mugs that wiped his mouth and grimaced at corpse taste. Cagney helpfully offered him a flower full of a sweet nectar to ease the taste. Boy did Mugs love Uncle Cagney. Chalice appeared before him, her spirit giving off a far sunnier feeling, her smile wide. Cuphead immediately tugged his brother away from her, he was bitter and entirely willing to let her know. Mugs, tired and winded, wound up putting all of his weight on Cuphead. Chalice’s smile grew fond at the sight of Cuphead taking the added weight with ease.

“As promised, you’ve got your body back. I won’t be partaking in any more body snatching.” She told the two and looked up at Cagney. “Thank you, forest spirt, it really was gracious of you to aid me, and in turn Lady Mugs.” Cagney flashed her a grin, though it wasn’t as big as it could have been. Understandable really, she had stolen his apparent nephew from him.

“Thank you for not sending one of my nephews to an early grave I suppose.” He replied, razor sharp teeth catching the light. She gave him a bow and faced the brothers once more. It looked like Mugs was a short bit away from going back to sleep. This was also understandable as the only way she’d been able to handle the soul of her brother had been to force a lot of magic into her hands, using the magic almost like a glove to maintain a grip on it. That and Mugs being gracious enough to feed his own intent into the magic, ensuring she could, in fact, harm her own Knight. The child was likely drained, she wished she could find him a place to rest. Now that she really looked, the Knight looked tired too. She supposed riding a horse for a full half of a day must have been agonizing due to the heavy armor and lack of experience going on long rides.

“Though I won’t be able to help you, maybe not even be raised again, I’ve left some of my knowledge behind with you, Lady Mugs. Use it however you please and may it serve you well. Sir Cuphead, my spear has an enchantment to it. Should you need it, use this charm,” she pointed to the glinting chain around the handle, wrapped in linen, attached to the spear. “And it will come to you with just a thought. It’s got a few nice tricks behind it as well, if knocked out of your hands, it will come back to you. It’s great fun when the enemy is between it and you. It will also never harm you or Lady Mugs. I know this isn’t enough, but I simply can’t express my thanks any more than this. I truly do appreciate your kindness and your agreement to work with me.”

She watched the forest spirit pluck the Lady out of the Knights hold so he could take the charm off the spear. It chimed, tiny bells jingling merrily, and the spear vanished. Cuphead put the charm around his handle and it conformed to the shape, ensuring it wouldn’t catch on anything or break off.

“I’ll be going now, may your journey be a long and eventful, but not lethal one. I will be cheering you on from the afterlife to the last breath of my soul.” With that, her spirit dissipated into a shower of gold, vanishing into the ground. Cuphead stared at the spot for a moment, and then turned and began climbing Cagney. Cagney, wholly confused but not willing to stop him, just remained in place.

“Ah…flowerbed.” Cuphead mumbled and promptly curled up around his sibling, content to be held in Cagney’s palm. Inkwell shifted, laughing in a way only land could. There the three stayed, surrounded by broken bits of mausoleum and the graveyard around the mausoleum. Cagney looked at the two young teens, still children by porcelain standards. He watched Cuphead hug Mugs closer to his chest with one arm, heard Mugs let out a tiny cooing sound and knew there’d be no moving until they woke up.

\---0---0---0---

An old woman tapping his main stem with a cane got his attention many hours later. Cagney, with two whole eyes, glanced down at the two in his hands and then tried to lean down without moving his hand.

“Excuse me, would you have a spare peace lily? I’d like to put one on my husband’s grave.” She asked. Cagney, entirely unused to basically everything going on, wordlessly pushed a bit of his magic into the ground, and the requested plant bloomed to life before her. She politely thanked him, plucked them, and shuffled away. He stared at her and then at the graves around him.

\---0---0---0---

The town, hours after the Lady and Knight had left for the beach, clamored around their graveyard. Flowers of all sorts bloomed beautifully, filling the autumn air with a medley of sweet scents. The flowers would linger for quite a while, even persisting through the first snowfall. They didn’t care about the state of the mausoleum, it wasn’t the first or second one after all. But the various flowers in gorgeous, intricate patterns held their attention and awe even after the flowers faded.

A bored forest spirit was a creative forest spirit.

\---0---0---0---

Bidding the two goodbye, Cagney disappeared once more into the ground. Off to explore Inkwell and see where else he could help. Or teach rude travelers a lesson on not mocking anything to do with Inkwell or his nephews.

The brothers, one dragging a heel through the sand of the beach before dipping into the salty water, the other looking out across the pier they’d found, were adamant that they were going to relax for the entire day. Inkwell, not seeing anything major, figured it couldn’t hurt. It thought it heard whispers of someone claiming to be the Lady off on its western side, but that could wait. The boys had given it such a pleading look that it hadn’t the soul to say no.

The bathing suits they changed into were nice enough. Though Inkwell wasn’t too fond of how the outfit didn’t shine all pretty like the lavender gown currently being washed, it was content to watch the ribbon around the bottom hem catch the light when not under the water. The sudden cliff ensured they’d be undisturbed and no prying eyes would spot the knight out of his armor or the Lady out of his gown, corset and all.

Mugs, glad to see the gown wasn’t a lost cause, was rubbing his hands into the fabric, pressing it into the sand, washing the ectoplasm out. He knew, while not the best method to clean the gown, it was the best he had, and the dress needed to be clean until Inkwell found a new one. So for now, anything would do. The sunlight caught on their pearly white porcelain, casting off in a soft glow. Cuphead sat at the edge of the pier and let his feet dangle into the water, merrily splashing away. The extensive amount of sleep he’d gotten meant he’d be good to go for a while. It also meant he was waiting for Mugs to finish with the dress so he could start a water fight.

The moment he saw his brother hang the gown up via tree branch, he dove into the water, his head kept above just enough that his mouth was the only part of his head submerged. He slowly inched his way towards his sibling, mischief in his eyes. Right as he was about to make his move, Mugs twisted around and used his skirt to send a wave at Cuphead. Cuphead didn’t even have time to rise up before it hit, but when he did, he came out with a big leap, sending water everywhere. Mugs laughed and the two played in the water for a good long while, content to let the day pass however they wanted. The joys of being used to weird things really was the best thing their mother and father and castle staff had taught them. They’d have to thank Grandpa Elder Kettle for the things he came up with to ‘get his grandkids used to the real world’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to recap. It's all about intent with the Lady and Knight. If there is intent to harm them, you simply won't be able to (if you were revived by the Lady). Be it your hand stopping, the magic keeping you on land will banish you back, or the knight will intercept. Because Mugs was the original soul, and because it's technically his magic now, Chalice was able to harm her knight because it wasn't her intent powering the magic, it was Mugs. She was able to hurt Cuphead because he wasn't her knight and her intent was more to get him away rather than truly hurt him. Oh the two are near the water, gee i hope no mermaids or pirates long dead are lurkin below... As another side, a spirit is connected to Inkwell like any forest spirit is, so forest spirits are able to hit them and crush them. I'm having so much fun with this thing, and i hope anyone reading it is enjoying it too.


	14. A date to deal with

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it did change its colors. That's right folks, it's happening, they doing the date thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to remind everyone that I don't do sex scenes. At no point in this story will there be sex. I don't even sort of want to try and figure out how sex would work with the version of King Dice I have here. If you want to, have at it, I can't stop you.

The next day, when Pirouletta had shown King Dice photos of Hell, arguably the first ever shown to a mortal, he expressed how impressed he was. While he could have reminded them that he had said ‘consider a date’ he honestly didn’t see any harm in going on a date with the big bad boss of Hell. The guy had yet to do anything to him, he hadn’t even whined or begged to see Dice’s personal magic. Which, considering his kind got asked that a lot, especially when they didn’t have a physical body, was a major plus to Devil. The last person to just stick a hand down his shirt backing had wound up a victim of the mafia. Bearing in mind he didn’t even personally know the mafia, it was quite the bit of coincidence. Or, as King Dice knew, it was more a bout of _bad luck._

“Well a deal is a deal, I’ll go on a date with Devil.” He shrugged. Based on the poorly hidden smile, Pirouletta remembered exactly what he’d said and was pleased. He, along with everyone else, was packing everything up. While he’d love to help with the heavy lifting, not having a body meant he was physically weak. His roommate liked to tease his inability to lift more than thirty pounds with both hands until whatever his roommate was carrying suddenly slipped out of their hands and fell on their foot. As such, King Dice was helping organize the way the carriage back home was being organized. He politely ignored the fact that Hell-horses were now attached to the thing rather than the regular ones they’d had before. If these things would be faster he was more than willing to deal with the creepy unholy neighing.

Pirouletta vanished in a burst of flames and, oddly enough, casino chips. She had said something about telling her boss about the good news. King Dice hoped she’d hold off until he wasn’t in an enclosed space, he feared how Devil would react. Putting those thoughts to the side of his mind, as well as starting to mentally list date ideas and outfits to wear, he continued helping pack.

“I swear to Hell, Marty if you don’t put that box where I told you to, I’m putting _you_ in the box.”

“But you’re still learning size magic!”

“I am indeed, so what do you think that means for you?”

“…It goes here, right?”

“Yes, it does.”

\---0---0---0---

He hadn’t seen anyone on the ride back, and even into the night. He’d simply found a note declaring the date would be the next night on his bed. So, tired from being outdoors so long and from the long ride, he gratefully placed his head primly on the violet pillow and slept, not even bothering to unpack.

Strangely enough, the first person from Hell he saw was Wheezy… of all people, it was Wheezy. The man had quizzed him on all the various ideas he had for the date and whether he thought Devil should wear anything. The idea of Devil wearing clothing brought an image of that Stageplay gal’s pet that wandered in their fancy little custom suits and he had to hold back a laugh. He’d asked why Devil wasn’t asking any of this stuff, and the laughter came out anyway when he learned it was because they were going to town on cleaning up their Boss.

“We’re doin’ the whole nine-yards here.” Wheezy had told him, voice deep and scratchy and full of pride. “We’ve even got a few sinners what know how to snip fur doin’ their thing so it looks grand. I do hope you’ll be puttin’ in the same effort.” Wheezy eyed King Dice who had been digging through his closet to find his special makeup set. King Dice returned the look with a steady gaze of his own.

“Mr. Wheezy, Is this your rendition of a shovel-talk?” He snarked, unimpressed and none too pleased with the fact that he didn’t even know when the date was to be. He needed as much time as possible after all.

“Nah, that’s Chip’s job. Or Phear leaps, good luck there by the by. I’m just hear to let you know to be ready by tonight, sometime around seven. Pirouletta will be back to give you Boss’s suggestions.” Wheezy gave him a wide smirk, yellow teeth on full display. With a burst of fire and smoke, Wheezy vanished back to hell. King Dice wondered if Wheezy was pushing at him for fun or because he didn’t like King Dice. Whatever it was, he’d have to wait to hear where they were going, but he did figure he could surprise Devil with a color-shift. Oh sure, his base color was indeed violet, it’s what he had always had. However, he’d found a way to mix illusion into his eye-palettes. He carefully pulled his prized box of special colors out and opened it, a calculative gleam in his eye.

\---0---0---0---

“So where are you going exactly?” His roommate asked from his doorway, watching King Dice masterfully apply eye liner. King Dice paused to look at his roommate via their reflection.

“Apparently the man has a resort on the west coast. According to a Mr. Chips Bettigan, I should be prepared to have, and I quote, ‘a hell of a fun time’.” As expected, the roommate snorted and gave King Dice two thumbs up.

“Well looks like you’re going all out too, I bet he’ll find it funny that you’re red now.”

“I’d change color more often if it wasn’t such a pain to make this stuff.” King Dice replied, looking at the red adorning his eyes and coloring his pips. He did love this shade of red, it was a smooth scarlet red, not too vivid or dark. The hint of orange was the reason he wore it for festivities the fall. Not to mention that it perfectly matched the highlights in Devil’s fur. Yes, he had noticed the various colorations in Devil’s fur, it wasn’t his fault he kept finding the man’s hair all over his clothes. He had a feeling really dating the man was just going to make the amount of hair even worse.

“Ah, fair enough, well I’ll leave you alone. I don’t feel like being the reason you run late. I don’t think my contract covers protection from angry servants.” His roommate spoke up after a few quiet minutes. King Dice waved lazily at him and continued with his make-up. The outfit he watched Pirouletta pick out for him after he’d told her she could choose a red one laid across his bed. She’d chosen the one he’d have gone for anyway, and he put her even higher up on his list of people he liked. He had plenty of time to touch up anything he wanted and make adjustments. Adding a splash of gold to the edges of his eyes, he decided he was done with his face, and prepared to switch outfits.

 Having magic that filled out the fabric depending on how it was cut and how much he put into the shape meant he needed perfectly tailored suits. It wasn’t hard when he took the time to learn how to adjust things by himself. In the early years skirts were both great and horrible for various obvious reasons. The deep wine-red pants he was very carefully pulling the wrinkles out of, few though there were, was one of his best. It was right up there with his lavender outfit that he most often wore. Pleased he’d fixed everything on the suit to perfection, he swapped clothes and admired himself in the full length mirror. He off-handedly wondered how Devil was doing.

\---0---0---0---

“He looks like a giant puff ball!” Pirouletta smacked Chips upside the head with his own hat. He tried to dodge her swings while appeasing her at the same time.

“It’ll dry out fine! He’s still got to go under the knife!”

“What knife? I’m not going under any knife.” Devil perked up, a shower of black fur raining down around him with the movement.

“It’s just to trim down a few of your rough patches Boss. That fella you’re trying to impress will surely love knowing you didn’t just take a quick dip to prepare. Last I heard from Pirouletta he was going all out.” Wheezy explained, hoping someone had a brush. He got the distinct feeling if Devil shed like that around the ritzy up man above, Devil’d be knocked around so hard he’d revert back to his holy status.

“You think so?” Devil turned his attention to Wheezy and Wheezy struggled to not shrink a bit. None of those below really knew how that guy above didn’t so much as twitch in fear at the sight of their boss. Phear bet it was because he’d never seen Devil like they had. He also bet that the second the man saw the full extent of Devil’s horrific temper he’d be running for the hills. Pirouletta had threatened to show him what truly powerful legs could do to a face if he ever mentioned that to their boss. Hell had rumbled in a very clear threat, agreeing with Pirouletta. Wheezy found it almost endearing considering Pirouletta was the most afraid of their Boss.

“Of course, Boss,” Dot said from across the room. “All gal’s love a man willing to spruce himself up like this just for them, he can’t be much different! Why, by the time we’re done with you I’m sure he’ll kiss you on the spot!” Pip scoffed at his sister’s words. A sharp, truly demonic glare from Pirouletta had him frantically nodding his half.

“Yes, he is, how do you say, of high quality.” Pirouletta told Devil, and he nodded but it was clear he was lost in thought.

“Do you think I should shape shift to something better?” He asked her. She, and the rest of them quickly shook their heads.

“No, he’d think you were being lazy.” Wheezy said. Pirouletta pointed to him and nodded, readily agreeing.

“He likes you like this, I believe he’d have spoken up about it if he didn’t. From what I saw of him he was quite open about showing his distaste.” Pirouletta really truly hoped this date went well. The resort they’d chosen was on the largest weak spot between Hell and Inkwell. They’d picked it because the building was made by a bunch of his worshippers as ‘an apology for the copious amounts of baby sacrifices’.

It had everything from a luxurious pool to a casino to a race track. It was open to any who wanted in, as long as they were willing to stay in a spot so close to Hell and was essentially Devil’s home away from home. There were countless rune’s etched into the foundation and within the walls ensuring he, and anything else strong enough in Hell, could visit whenever they chose. It was ritzy, it was flashy, and it had everything the two could ever need for a date in it. Not only that, but they could keep an eye and try and help out if it looked like the date was going off-kilter.

Devil finally relented and let two souls who’d had jobs relating to cutting animal hair for nobles’ way back when take scissors to his thick pelt. Someone even went about polishing his horns and claws. He’d never been so clean and preened in his life. Hell thought it was adorable. It also laughed at the fact that it’d taken the beast four baths to get all the layers of grime and dirt and sweat and other gross bits off his entire body. He felt ten pounds lighter and his fur shined. He really did hope it was worth letting someone take shears to his claws. Shit hurt like a bitch when the usual method to clipping them was his sharp teeth. Sharp teeth that were now equally squeaky clean.

With thoughts of King Dice in his head, he settled down and quietly let everyone go at his outer appearance, reassured that if there was a mess up, he’d shift and fix it. Anyone who said the Devil was all anger and wrath would be gob smacked at his current appearance, docile and content to listen to the various tips his lackeys were giving him. He’d admit, it was pretty hilarious watching Pirouletta and Dot tag team to knock down poor tips. Watching Pirouletta get fed up with Chimes ‘tips’ which were just dirty suggestions and kick him out the window was pretty great too.

\---0---0---0---

Promptly at seven Devil appeared in a proper gate. He’d spotted the one he was contracted to first and they’d gleefully told him he was in for a treat. They had not been wrong. King Dice, pips red and crisp suit cutting a sleek figure, hearing the noise of the gate, stepped out from his room not a moment after the roommate had spoken up. Devil gladly agreed, he also sent a breathless thanks to his dad for creating someone like King Dice. He was too awed by King Dice’s appearance to care for the replies it got.

“He did it again!”

“Someone check Hell! Mortals say it freezes for things like this!”

“Holy spirit, it’s entirely changed! It looks like a fancy hotel!”

“He did it, the mad man!”

“I can’t believe my top angels are acting like this. What are you lot? Old Ladies?”

“God, do you think they’ll get married?”

“Do I look willing to tell you anything? Now zip it, my other favorite son is the closest I might get to having grand-kids.”

“…But he doesn’t have a body.”

“Other favorite? I thought-“

“I thought everyone was your children. Which means you already have… but if everyone is your child then-“

“ _There’s no body under that outfit, Raphael. How about we focus on that first._ ”

“Shut up!”

Devil was insanely glad he’d let everyone clean him up. King Dice did indeed look impressed, if the surprised flush of soft violet was anything to go by.

“Well now, you clean up quite well.” King Dice remarked, his tone light and happy. Devil had to fight to not wag his tail, it was a lost cause apparently, based on the roommate cooing at the two of them.

“Go on now, and remember to have him back by midnight,” the roommate said teasingly. “But seriously we have class tomorrow and you’re terrifying when you don’t get enough sleep.” They finished, and then hustled into their room, content to let the two have this time alone.

“You… uh…” Devil, the creature renowned for his silver tongue, had no words that were perfect for how he wanted to describe King Dice. King Dice sauntered over and stopped once he was directly in front of Devil.

“The fact that I’ve left you speechless with that face is all the compliment I need Devil. Now, let’s be off then?” King Dice held out his hand and Devil pulled King Dice closer, resting King Dice’s hand on his forearm.

“Right this way King, the resort and our date awaits.” Devil, finding his tongue again and remembering how to speak, led King Dice into the gate, and out they came a moment later, this time at the resort.

\---0---0---0---

“Good to know they both clean up well.” Wheezy said from his perch on the rafters. It had taken a lot of climbing to get himself up there. The view was worth it, and the shared vision between the lot of them ensured all of them saw Devil and King Dice stroll around, talking and gesturing to various things. Sure, he could have just relied on Pip and Dot, but everyone knew those two could get distracted easily and no one wanted to miss a thing.

While able to see them, he couldn’t hear them. Knowing that King fellow like he did, in the brief time he’d chat with him, he figured the guy would be most likely talking about some boring magic related stuff. He wondered what Boss saw in the man.

\---0---0---0---

“As it turned out that was the wrong board to step on and the man went right down into the drink. I didn’t bother staying to see if he came up.” King Dice gave a casual shrug and Devil snorted.

“Well he was trying to fight you.” Devil pointed out, more than happy to listen to King Dices’ voice.

“It wasn’t my fault he’d gotten drunk and was looking to start something any passerby. Oh! Speaking of water antics, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” King Dice tilted his head towards the pool area they were walking over. Devil leaned forward to get a look and snorted.

“If you mean do I see some woman shouting at a man while what I’m going to guess is her kid flails in the deep end, then yes I do. What? Are you going to dive down and save that child?” Devil looked down at King Dice, his grin growing wider at the scoff he got in return. King Dice glanced at Devil, eyebrows raised, expression coy.

“Oh I think not. It’s not my job to watch over some kid with a mother too angry to keep an eye on them. Besides, this suit does _not_ go well with water and I don’t fancy taking a dip.”

“Are you sure? Might be seen as committing murder in more holy eyes. What if your vanity gets you sent down to Hell?” Devil teased, his tail coiling loosely around King Dice’s arm.

“Devil, if I’m sent to Hell for this, it means I’ve failed _many_ of my goals. I can assure you, I don’t intend to be dumped with the likes of Mr. Wheezy over something trivial like a bout of vanity. No, I’ve got plans for whatever happens to await me and judge my soul. Who knows, with any luck, you’ll be around to see it, maybe even get a front row seat.” King Dice turned back to face the child, but the darkly malicious glint in his eyes was still caught. Devil’s tail began to wag.

\---0---0---0---

“Hey… when he goes, can someone trade spots with me?” He heard saint peter say from above.

“Oh gracious no. That’s your job, as God intended.”

“You didn’t say that when you were too tired to sound the trumpet for yesterday’s breakfast! Gabriel you son of a-“

\---0---0---0---

“Well you know what they say about me, luck always seems to be on my side.” Devil remarked, quite glad that King Dice couldn’t hear his siblings annoying chatter. King Dice choked on a laugh, his hand flying to cover his mouth. While a tad confused at what he said to make King Dice laugh—and a tad worried King Dice was one of those that could hear the weirdo’s above—he was pleased to see King Dice at his side, clearly having a good time.

Down below, as he led King Dice to the center where a wine bar awaited them, the child was saved by a couple of people that had noticed their plight.

\---0---0---0---

“Is he laughing at Boss?” Wheezy questioned, trying to shimmy closer to the glass walls that made up the second floor viewing deck.

“Wheezy, for hell’s sake stop that. You’re either going to get caught or you’re going to fall.”

“With how many nails are in these beams I wouldn’t be surprised if he loses his pants first.”

“Oh please, if there’s a merciful god above don’t let us get the answer to the question ‘does Wheezy wear boxers or briefs’.”

“We’re denizens of Hell, I don’t think they’re listening to us.”

“That or we just gave them ideas.”

“Would you all shut up? I’m trying to focus! How does he get his damn mustache so smooth?” Wheezy grumbled.

“Are… Is that what we’re asking now? Not, how does he change colors? If he could change colors why did we all have to redecorate Hell? No, it’s about his mustache? What about what’s under that suit? Pirouletta said he don’t have a body.”

“Hey Chips, remember when you shoved your hand down Mangosteen’s shirt the one time he wore one and just about lost your head? Try and think about what would happen if you tried that with Boss’s arm candy.”

“The term is Sheba I think.”

“No, that’s for someone’s girlfriend.”

“Is he even Boss’s girlfriend yet?”

“They’re on a date right now, what else would he be?”

“Okay seriously would you-“ Wheezy froze at the sound of fabric tearing and slowly looked back.

“Oh…” Down below he could hear Pip and Dot heaving.

“Sweet shit he doesn’t wear _anything_.”

“Why did you look down, Wheezy?!”

“ **If you lot don’t shut your traps and stop stalking me on my date I’m going to make you wish you could die.** ”

“Shit! Bail!”

Wheezy, surprised at the sudden booming voice of his boss, flailed too hard and his body tipped over. Unbalanced and near pantsless, he pitched over the side of the beam he was on and went straight down.

\---0---0---0---

Devil returned his focus to King Dice, taking a sip of the white wine they’d decided on. A part of him wanted to question where the wine went, but it was insignificant to the other questions about King Dice’s hobbies and such he had. Sure, sharing hobbies was apparently a cliché thing to do. He already did have a basic grasp of what King Dice liked too, but he wanted to know more. Thus far he’d learned that his crush could sing, loved it, actually. He also really liked dancing, found the foxtrot and quickstep and the most recent style downright fascinating. Devil made it his goal to learn how to dance for the next date. Contrary to popular belief he wasn’t phenomenal with everything right off the bat. King Dice had told him that while he wouldn’t complain about lower quality things, he preferred the higher quality.

“One day, I’m going to have enough to buy a silk suit. It will replace my old one, I’ve had that one for about a century, give or take.” King Dice told him, Devil noted the time estimate and arched a brow.

“A century? Is it an heirloom or something?” Devil recalled a few summoners offering him important family items. He’d never accepted them, they were only dear to the people that knew their history after all.

“No, I’ve been around for… Well goodness I lost count of the years. Ah, but it’s been a while.” King Dice replied, giving Devil a casual shrug. Devil, hearing Pirouletta scream at him not to bring age up on a date, reached for something to change the subject.

“Well you know, there’s a casino that way. Maybe you could try your hand.” Devil gestured to the opposite side of the pool. King Dice snorted.

“Betting in the Devil’s casino? I’d be more suspicious of the dealer than I am of the cooking class taught by that alchemist.” King Dice gave him a sly glance. Devil returned it with a wide toothed grin.

“I’ll have you know, cheating is a sin. What kind of ruler of hell would I be if I didn’t punish sinners?”

“I tell you what, why don’t we wander over and if something catches my interest, I’ll test my luck.”

“I’ll do you one better. If something catches your attention, we’ll play a round. If you win, I’ll get you whatever you want. If I win, I get a kiss. Before you ask, no, your soul isn’t on the table for this one. I got something else I want from you more.” Devil offered, he held out one hand, keeping his gaze on King Dice to prove he meant it. He really didn’t want to bet for King Dice’s soul, he’d much prefer winning the man over this way. King Dice, returning the favor, put his hand into Devil’s. The two shook on it, and headed off towards the casino portion.

\---0---0---0---

The two spent fifteen minutes enjoying the sight of people in various stages one went through at a casino. They saw the newbies, the ones trying to learn the rules. There were the desperate souls, scrounging for more money. The high-rollers, preening and gloating on occasion. The angry patrons. They’d spent a particularly healthy amount of time watching a table of angry patron’s storm away from a particular Craps table. With every angry rant and flail, Devil’s grin grew more and more cruel. King Dice however, had a contemplative glint in his eye. They noted how only one person stayed at the table. It wasn’t hard to see what was happening.

“I’ll have to have a chat with the imps after this, looks like they’re slacking on the job.” Devil spoke with a dangerous rumble in his throat. King Dice finished the rest of his wine, eyes remaining locked on the table.

“That one.” He said, Devil gave him a long look. He must have seen something interesting because in the next second his tail was wrapping around King Dice’s waist and the two were suddenly at the tableside in a flash of heat. The dealer flailed, the patrons around scrambled to back away, and the two patrons at the table screamed. Devil sauntered over until he easily towered over the dealer, waves of heat rolling off his body. That wasn’t the reason for the dealer breaking into a sweat though.

“Don’t bother standing up on my account boys.” Devil dug polished claws into the wood next to the dealers hand.

“Oh uh…”

“Yes, I think this one is perfect for the deal, Devil.” King Dice interrupted the man and sat down. The empty wine glass gone from his hand. Devil’s claws released the wood and he prowled around to the other side across from King Dice. The dealer audibly gulped, and shakily handed the dice to King Dice. King Dice lightly tossed them into the air a few times, letting them land on the palm of his hand. The dealer gave him a weak glare. Devil’s growl rolled through the air, rattling the bones of those around them. The glare vanished so fast it almost looked painful.

“If it rolls high, you win, King Dice. If low, I win.” Devil gestured for King Dice to roll. King Dice’s eyes gleamed a vivid green and with a flick of his wrist, the dice clattered onto the table. Everyone around held their breath, sure the deal mentioned was for the red Die’s soul. The dealer looked less nervous however, sure of the outcome. When two sixes stared back at everyone, his jaw dropped.

“Hmm” King Dice’s voice was a purr, bold green eyes locked with Devil’s red ones. “Looks like luck isn’t on your side this time.” The sly tilt of his smile held even when the dealer let out a shout of disbelief.

“How?!” The dealer cried out, completely forgetting the audience he had. Devil, who had been quite content, if a bit let down at the fact that he’d have to wait for a kiss even longer, hissed wrathfully at the man.

“Simple, I rolled them. Goodness I thought being a dealer meant you knew how this game worked.” King Dice, a visual and audible polar opposite of Devil, sat primly and spoke with a cool tone.

“No, they…” The dealer, regaining common sense, stopped mid-sentence. He cowered before Devil, who’d grown twice his usual size and had two extra sets of eyes opening up above the ones always on his face. A lone imp, black fur bristled like a cat, landed on the dealer’s shoulder. Its teeth bared much like Devil’s were. Unlike his cleaned ones, the imp’s fangs were stained with blood and drool dripped from its tiny maw. The dealer squealed, and the man next to King Dice shrieked, lurching back and kicking out one leg where another imp was. Its tiny claws dug into his leg, shredding the cloth and drawing blood.

King Dice watched more and more imps descend on the dealer or skitter up the patron’s body, leaving bloody scratches and bites in their wake. Oh so casually, he stepped to the side, away from the mayhem and closer to Devil, content to observe. It was quite the sight too, imps turning two living beings into scraps of bone, and then nothing. He hoped that wasn’t the reason why the carpet was red.

“Well now I don’t know about you, but I’m rather enjoying this date.” He spoke up loud enough for Devil to hear. Like a switch, Devil went from hulking and massive and angry to his usual height, tail wagging away. “You do still owe me a suit, but that can wait, why don’t we return to the second floor and continue watching people ruin their lives?” King Dice offered Devil his hand, Devil didn’t even hesitate to take it, giving King Dice a gleeful grin.

\---0---0---0---

“Oh for the mercy of all… They both like watching people suffer.”

“So _that’s_ why Boss likes him!”

“How’d he get the loaded dice to land the way they did though?”

“Magic?”

“No, the imps would have gone after him too.”

“Not if he used magic to reset their weight and make them fair?”

“That could have been it. The imps don’t care if you make a game fair.”

“Just what kinda magic does that though? I haven’t heard of that method before.”

“Who cares, the dates going well!”

“Shame he doesn’t get a kiss though.”

\---0---0---0---

Hours later, just as the clock was finishing its eleventh ring, Devil returned King Dice to his apartment. Devil practically glowed with happiness, his tail swaying, full of pleased pride.

“As promised, back with enough time for you to get plenty of sleep.” Devil bowed and grandly gestured to King Dice’s room. King Dice huffed out a laugh, eyes alight with mirth.

“Indeed you did, I do believe that deserves a reward fine sir.” Devil didn’t have long to react to King Dice’s words. Not when barely a moment after speaking King Dice was suddenly much closer, and then his lips were on Devil’s in a chaste kiss. A burst of rumbling purrs erupted from his throat and he coiled his tail and arms around King Dice, not deepening the kiss but reciprocating. It lasted for a good couple handfuls of seconds before they pulled away and King Dice bid Devil a good night. He’d love to watch Devil melt into a puddle of joy but the makeup was not easy to get off and he truly was cranky if he didn’t get enough sleep. Devil gave a weak wave, face slack with mute awe and joy.

He shuffled back into Hell after standing in the living room for a solid minute, dazed and purring like crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried, and I mean I really tried to picture the Cuphead rendition of the Devil as suave and smooth and it just didn't compute. I'm sure there's someone here that's nailed that type of Devil, I am not one of them. With how he acts in the fight and how quick to anger and cry and throw fits... The closest I came was a Devil that could make his voice go into a cool rumble. I think that's what King Dice is supposed to be though. Based on their different designs, with Dice wearing a color once reserved for nobility and on a well pressed suit, all clean corners and well kept shoes. Devil has this rough helter-skelter kind of thing about him, fur all puffy and rough and not brushed down and not a single smooth clean trick of a grin to be seen. I love that about them though. I love how the first thing you see is King Dice, and how he's the one to get Devil's attention on the brothers and Devil just sort of pops out of nowhere, dice in hand, totally uncaring of winning them over with words.


	15. sea-battles and heavy losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladies should never sneeze when trying to revive things. It doesn't end well.

After quite a bit of time spent in the water, splashing, swimming, diving for interesting seashells, the two sat on the pier letting the sun dry them off. They were currently trying to test the spear out. Cuphead figured it was as good a time as any to get a feel for the weapon. What particularly interested him was that it--if Mugs recollection was correct-- could physically harm ghosts. It had pierced the Seventh Knight, keeping him pinned long enough for Chalice to begin the carving process. Any other weapon not specially crafted and embedded with numerous runes dedicated to repelling the dead would have simply gone through him. While he was throwing the spear as hard as he could to test how far it could go before he couldn’t call it back--and thus far he’d yet to reach a distance where it didn’t respond to his call immediately—Mugs was figuring out just what knowledge she’d given him.

It was right around the fourth time Cuphead flung the spear out and brought back a fish, speared through the middle and fish-slapping Cuphead straight across his face, that he decided to try one more time. A person could only stand being fish-slapped so often before they had to call it quits after all.

“Brother I think she left her fighting knowledge behind along with the other stuff.” Mugs said after his Knight had put everything he had into throwing the spear off into the distance. Cuphead stumbled forward from the force he’d put into the motion, caught himself just before he fell off the pier, and held out his hand. A bright flash later and the spear was back in his hand, bells on his handle jingling as if they were still on the weapon.

“She did? So if I gave you the bracelet you’d be able to use this?” Cuphead hefted the spear up and down a bit, letting the handle leave his hand and sending it back to wherever it rested when not called on.

“Yes, though I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why not? It could be real useful for you.”

“Cuphead just because I know how to use it doesn’t mean I have the strength for it. Here, give me the charm.” Mugs held out his hands, Cuphead dutifully pulled the charm from his handle, only a little creeped out that it phased through his porcelain to come off. He dropped it into Mugs hands, watched him pull it onto his wrist like a bracelet, and the spear flashed back into Mugs hands. Mugs tested his grip on it, somehow, but not surprisingly, knowing exactly how to hold it. He lifted it into what he knew was the correct position and threw it with all his might. It went only half the distance of Cuphead’s throws. Cuphead gave an absent-minded hum and accepted the charm back, once more putting it around his handle.

“Fair enough, still, if we do wind up needing to defend ourselves I’ll hand it over to you. Even if you aren’t strong, it’d be nice to know you’ve got some form of defense that isn’t just me.” He finally said after a short pause. Mugs nodded in ready agreement, his brother certainly had a point after all. Then he remembered the other thing she’d gifted to him.

“Oh that reminds me! Cuphead, she knew how to revive sea life, you know what this means?”

“You’re a multi-tasking necromancer?”

“Yes! Well…that and I have to test it out.”

“Well sure, I don’t see any way a guppy could hurt you. I’m not sure how knowing how to bring back a dead goldfish is helpful though.” Cuphead joked, Mugs burst into a fit of giggles. He tucked his head into his skirt, having sat back down on the edge of the pier and brought his knees up to keep his feet out of the water.

“Observe brother, your Lady now has the power to bring back an army of tuna!” With that playfully bold declaration, Mugs looked out to the sea. Just before he called up his magic, a tickle built up in his nose. Before he could cut the flow off, he let out a high-pitched sneeze, and a far larger burst of magic than intended. Cuphead broke into hearty laughter, clutching his stomach and resting his other palm on his knee. That is, he _was_ laughing. He stopped laughing when the ocean bulged up, something massive, easily ten times their size, rising up out of the sea.

Mugs had just around half a second to notice another thing tearing out of the water before he was being dragged backwards by Cuphead. It seemed like even Cuphead didn’t know what he was doing, Mugs wasn’t going to stop him though, acutely aware of the last time he’d brought something big back. Cuphead just barely managed to draw a line and have Inkwell raise a small chunk to block them from view before two things heaved themselves out of the ocean.

One was a mermaid, with what had to be a kraken of the cuttlefish variety on her head acting as her hair. Her flesh was tinted greenish-blue, like many beings tended to look after they’d died in the water. She was glaring hatefully at the other thing that had rose, her mottled tail—rotted in some areas enough to expose gleaming bone—thrashing under the water enough to make Inkwell raise the brothers up along with their wall defense just to not get hit by the resulting waves. The ship, the thing that had to be a pirate ship if the tattered flag flying proudly above the crow’s nest was anything to go by, reminded the two of Davy Jones.

It was patchy and had two deep gouges in the hull, exposing a few cannons that were hastily being pulled back into the ship by crew members. The brothers watched a man with an impressive beard start shouting at the mermaid, all while his crew went back to what they had been doing beforehand. Both of them were close enough to shore that the brothers had no problem hearing them.

“Aye! Ye thought ye could flee for land and safety did ye? Ye salty bucket of brine swill! Captain Brineybeard won’t be letting ye escape this time!” The man shouted, waving a sword that wouldn’t have done more than give her a papercut at the mermaid. She let out a snarl in return and reached out for him, barely snapping her hand back in time from the sudden cannon fire, the cannon ball smashed into her side, and to the brothers’ surprise, it only left a dark mark. She didn’t even seem to notice it.

“Run? From you? Brineybeard you must be losing more than just your health! Cala Maria doesn’t run from two legged rum drunks!” She shouted, using her hands to send a wave that nearly rolled the ship belly side up. Somehow, instead of going under, it simply righted itself once more.

“Why do they keep saying their names?” Cuphead said, figuring they were too far away to hear him. Evidently however, he’d thought wrong, Cala Maria and Brineybeard, not expecting a third party’s voice to come from the shore, both turned to look. The brothers, who’d been sitting on the ledge that originally hid them, stared back. Mugs hesitantly waved and Cala Maria, entirely confused but unable to work up a singe hostile thought toward the two, waved back. Brineybeard didn’t return the favor, instead he scratched his head with his sword, seemingly not feeling the blade scrape against a piece of exposed bone in that area.

“Oh don’t mind us!” Cuphead shouted, face coloring a bright red in embarrassment. “Just a couple of landlubbers out for a stroll!” He sort of wished Inkwell would drag him and Mugs as far away from the two as possible at that second. Cala Maria tilted her head in confusion.

“Landlubbers? Is that more sailor speak?” She asked, pulling herself a bit closer, but not enough to expose more than where her body went from skin to scale.  Cuphead didn’t have a chance to respond, Brineybeard beat him to it.

“What daft teacup be bringing a lass t’ a beach of all places?! That’s how I lost me good little sister! Wind swept her right up!” He shouted. Mugs choked on the breath he’d been taking in, quickly slapping a hand across his face while he laughed hysterically. Cuphead’s jaw dropped and the soul liquid in his head let out a burst of steam. He tried to speak, Brineybeard didn’t let him.

“Unless yer tryin’ t’ commit murder. In which case, boyo that’s right horrible of ye. D’ ye have any idea how cruel the ocean be t’ intruders? And ye’d have to find the body and make sure it got picked up by sharks! Yer plan is amateurish at best!”

“Okay first of all-“ Cuphead shouted, heaving himself up so he could get his legs under him in an attempt to stand. Mugs fell off the ledge, though he didn’t stop laughing even when he stumbled into the cliffside. This time it was Cala Maria that interrupted him.

“Brineybeard you blubber-head. If he was going to try and kill that one you just ruined it! For all you know he could be courting her!” Both brothers sucked in a breath, gaining a green tint to their faces. Mugs gagged a little, the idea of being courted by Cuphead giving him war-like flashbacks to childhood stories of the tenth and twelfth sets of Lady and Knight.

“Lass, based on that reaction, that be a solid no on the courting. Ye’d think a merwench like yerself would be less a romantic at heart but here we be!” Brineybeard said, some of his crew nodding solemnly behind him. Cala Maria huffed and crossed her arms across her chest.

“You land walkers all look the same to me, and this romantic at heart is the reason you don’t have a wife anymore, _thank you very much._ ” She glared at Brineybeard who glared back.

“Aye, but the joke’s on you, turns out she had been about t’ turn me in _and_ she’d been trying t’ poison us. Though, we aren’t sure which she was hoping would come first. Death or the navy.”

“Mugs they’re distracted, let’s get-“

“My dress!”

“Seriously?”

“Cuphead I’m _not_ strolling around in a bathing suit!”

“Oh that one has a proper set o’ lungs! Reminds me of you!” Brineybeard let out a hearty guffaw and pointed between Mugs and Cala Maria. This time it was Cuphead that snorted before he gave up holding back and laughed out loud. Mugs rested his head on his palm, staring at something still on the beach down below.

“Oh laugh all you want, that’s _your_ armor getting waterlogged. Oh my is that your sword I see going into the water? Goodness you-Not that way!” Mugs barely caught his brother who’d leapt over the side of the ledge in a blind panic. Unfortunately, Cuphead weighed far more than Mugs could hold up and the two slipped over the edge, sliding down the steep hill. Part way down one ice cold hand caught them gently. Cala Maria let out a surprised noise, even Brineybeard was arching a brow at her sudden movement. She’d thrown herself across the shallows, her entire upper body and her hips clear of the water while the rest of her tail arched out, balancing her weight.

Cuphead coughed out a mouthful of sand. Mugs tried untangling his arm from his bathing suits skirt, a heavy blue blush across his face.

“That’s odd… When did I move?” Cala Maria muttered more to herself than anyone else, idly helping Mugs fix his skirt and brushing some sand from Cuphead’s face.

“That would be because I brought you back Ms. Cala Maria.” Mugs replied once he’d gotten into a proper sitting position on her hand. Cuphead looked down the remaining twenty feet or so where his armor and gear were getting scattered and pulled under by the waves, a whine building up in his throat.

“Back from what?” She gave him a baffled frown, glancing at Brineybeard who shared her confusion.

“Oh you see, you were dead. Both of you actually. I brought both of you back, and because of that, you’ve got a drive to keep me and my brother safe.” It made sense that she and Brineybeard would be so confused, Mugs thought. They were sea bound, most likely dying off the coast of Inkwell out of sheer chance.

“Wait, ye be tellin’ me we died?! Well then who won our battle!?” Brineybeard shouted, waving his sword around once more. The crew began trying to figure it out, talking quietly amongst themselves.

“We died? At the same time?” Cala Maria lifted them closer to her face so she could better look them in the eye. Cuphead finally had enough and started to crawl off the side of her palm, so she dutifully lowered it down, allowing him a quick hop down to the ground near his stuff. Mugs stepped off as well, brushing his skirt clean once more while he pondered why they’d be the way they were.

“Considering you’re both dead, and you’re so close, I’d say so. Maybe the fight you had gave both of you wounds you couldn’t recover from?” Mugs theorized, content to let his brother splash around, collecting what he could from the waves. Cuphead let out a strange guttural whimper at the sight of his prized brigandine’s splotchy appearance, the salt water having eaten through the dye in the fabric portion with ease. Cala Maria and Brineybeard looked at one another and finally realized the both of them didn’t look quite right.

“You’ve got a skeleton crew!” She shouted, pointing behind him at the crew who were indeed, patchy, bleached bones and little else. The crew gave a collective shrug at the shriek from their captain, their souls seeing nothing wrong with a little lack of skin. They’d figured it was just another illusion cast by Cala Maria’s scream and had forgotten to mention it. Brineybeard hadn’t really gotten more than a quick glance behind him, too busy yelling at Cala Maria. He too had patches of bone showing plain and clear in the sun. How he had more flesh on him was something only Mugs’ magic could answer, and it wouldn’t be doing that any time soon considering it couldn’t talk.

“Ye’ve got a great chunk o’ yer tail plum ripped right off the bone!” Brineybeard made a sweeping gesture along the third of her tail that was flat out missing. Her fin, now close enough to the surface to see, was patchy and rotted. She shrieked at the state of it, her voice piercing the air and echoing well off into the horizon. A pod of whales that had been swimming by echoed her wail with supportive ones of their own. There was a dolphin pod nearby that tried letting out comforting noises, only to sound more like they were laughing. They were bat to the side by her thrashing tail and became the first sea creatures to get a real close look at outer space.

“Ms. Maria it’s not that bad! You still look pretty, and it’s hardly noticeable!” Mugs tried his own hand at soothing her, wincing when she sniffled in return. “Why, we only noticed when you surfaced! Besides, you’re plenty impressive enough even without that part of your tail! Right Cuphead?”

“What’s a knight without his cool armor...” Cuphead whined out, clutching his chainmail to his chest.

“Nothin’ like a pirate, I’ll tell ye that much!” Brineybeard, mood brightened at Cala Maria’s suffering, shouted in response. Cuphead let out a deeply offended gasp and glared at Brineybeard.

“Excuse you? A knight could take down a lame pirate any day!” He snapped back, giving Brineybeard the dirtiest glare he could manage.

“Last I checked, ye little munchkin, knights don’t have access to cannons. I do.”

“So about that whole battle you two were having before you keeled over!” Mugs loudly butt in, throwing his hand over Cuphead’s mouth. The hiss of wrath muffled by his palm was staunchly ignored.

“Right! We fought to the death but then we both died! That’s a tie! But a tie implies I lost to you!” Cala Maria shoved herself back into the water, getting over her lost tail at the thought of losing to her mortal enemy. Brineybeard seemed to be the same. He scoffed and spat off the side of his ship.

“Aye! That means I lost t’ ye! What a sorry outcome for a pirate such as meself! I vote we continue where we left off.” He didn’t even bother waiting for her to respond before lifting his sword to the air and rallying his crew. Cala Maria gave him a dark glare, her lips pulled into a deep scowl.

“Bring it on fish bait!” She taunted, lashing out at the ship and clipping the tip of the bow. Brineybeard stumbled, his ship groaned and spun in the water. Cala Maria only realized her mistake when a sudden hail of cannon fire shot out of the broadside and pelted her.

As they fought, they wound up pulling a bit further out to sea, just enough to put Cuphead and Mugs out of the direct line of fire. Mugs watched the two duke it out, enjoying watching the ship dart around, expertly steered by her captain, returning fire and warding Cala Maria off. Cuphead shoved Mugs hand away, a deep scowl on his face.

“You interrupted because you agree with him, don’t you.” Cuphead squinted at his brother, judgement pouring off of his frame in waves. Mugs gave him a wide eyed, guilty look, fidgeting with his skirt, trying to avoid full eye contact.

“You do! Traitor!”

“He has cannons!”

“I have Inkwell!”

“Not every knight has Inkwell Cuphead!”

“Oh I ‘d like to see that sea dog take on a knight without his cannons. I bet he wouldn’t last a second!”

“Cuphead, he also has guns. I saw them on his belt.”

“They’re waterlogged! They wouldn’t work!” As if taunting him, the two heard gunfire, easily picked out from the cannon fire and shouting due to its’ sharp crack compared to the cannon’s deep booms. Mugs tossed a smug look at Cuphead. Cuphead tossed his hands into the air, forgetting he’d been holding his chainmail but entirely too focused on their debate to care about it thudding back into the sand.

“Sure, let me just find one of those new Gatling-guns and I’ll shred him into pirate mist.”

“Those are heavy.”

“So is the knowledge that your brother thinks you’d lose to a grubby scurvy-ridden pirate just because he’s got a fancy boat.”

Inkwell rolled under their feet, laughing in its’ special way.

\---0---0---0---

The boys, one sulking from wounded pride, the other attempting to salvage the armor as best he could, watched the two scuffle for a few hours. After Cala Maria got her arm blown clean off by well placed cannon fire, Mugs decided to cut his flow of magic so they’d return to their eternal rest. He would have let them fight to the second death, but he was quickly realizing that there was no saving this thing. Much like his dress, it was too far gone. Even if he managed to fix the fabric covering the metal plates, the plates themselves would rust very quickly. He spotted bits of rust all over the chainmail from previous dips. Saltwater was the bane of anyone clad in armor for a very specific reason and there was little he could do to stop what had already began.

They’d have to stop by a metalsmith. What Cuphead would wear until he could get his armor fixed, Mugs didn’t know. The only other armor he had was stored in a special vault, only accessible by Inkwell. It was his full plate-mail set, reserved for extreme cases where it was highly likely that the Knight would be neck deep in battle. The Lady had no such armor, as it was expected of her to revive the dead and use them as shields or cover while she relocated to a safer point. Cuphead wasn’t fond of it because of how heavy the thing was. It moved like liquid over him, sure, as it was modeled specifically for him, but it was heavy, and very intimidating. Mugs, meanwhile could just put on whatever Inkwell found for him, and it likely had a gown by now. All Mugs had to do was find a river to wash the saltwater off and he’d be ready to slip into his own things.

His own things, which were no longer where he’d left them. It was only then that he realized he’d left his corset and other undergarments on the pier. The last thing Cala Maria and Brineybeard heard before a soothing whisper thanking them for their service to the Lady of Inkwell swept through their minds followed by endless darkness, was a high-pitched scream.

\---0---0---0---

“Ah hahaha!” Cuphead thumped his fist into the sand, his entire body rattling with laughter. He’d fallen over after realizing Mugs reason for shrieking. That is, until he registered just what no corset meant. No corset meant getting refitted for a new one. No corset meant no way to be properly clothed. No corset meant Mugs would have no choice but to wear a dress that didn’t require one. One of those new fangled shorter ones most likely. The ones that didn’t even come close to touching the floor. Granted, due to years upon years of wearing a corset, Mugs had a far more pronounced waist than he did. So technically, being porcelain and all meant his body would hold the shape it had been molded into and that meant no real need for a corset. It was more the principle of the thing really.

Even so, that meant only one thing. Neither sibling had their usual gear available to them. Inkwell knew this, and decided it was _time_. It eagerly sent up the dress it had stashed away while locating the nearest person working with metal. It also went about alerting the castle the only way it knew how. By throwing one of the drenched gauntlets through one of the castle windows like a bullet, nearly taking out a maid and scaring the king so bad he fainted. It figured, while the two fret over their predicament, that it had done all it needed. It was the best chunk of land in the world and no one was going to ever top it. Not even that prissy mountainous land across from the western river. Who cared if that place had living ink; Inkwell had living everything _and_ it was top dog at finding pretty dresses, fixing the issues of its two most important people, all while watching over a forest spirits garden. It was _the best_.

\---0---0---0---

The dress Inkwell offered up had a few upsides and downsides. On the upside, it was an impressive deep blue with gold patterns and trim. It would easily match Mugs’ natural colors, and it was light fabric. The downside was it was one of the modern dresses roaming about. Which meant it was far less fabric than the gowns before, had very thin straps holding the thing up, and it dipped low on his back. Evidently Inkwell had decided to try for modern.

Cuphead gained a whole new fear that the gowns that were almost always worn by the most recent Ladies had gone out of style entirely and Mugs would never have to wear a corset. Considering he had to wear clunky armor, he thought that was entirely unfair. He conveniently purged hearing the eighth Knight complain about his Brigandine being so much better than the full suit of armor he’d had to wear during his time as a Knight. He also ignored that Chalice had worn a toga, something that was basically just a sheet with extra steps.

“Well, it’s not horrible, it’s a lovely color!” Mugs tried, reaching for a plus to losing his corset and—for the first time in his life—wearing a dress that had just a single layer and needed nothing metal under it. Rather than his usual elaborate but impressive and easily eye-catching gowns.

“Oh yes, it’s gorgeous, if only the seamstress hadn’t sneezed while working on the back. You know, because there is none.”

“Cuphead if there was no back it would be a backwards robe.”

“I’d honestly prefer a robe to this.”

“I have no corset, I don’t think I could wear any other gown without one.”

“The lavender one!”

“Which is floating somewhere south of here on a journey to see the world.”

“Oh for the love of…”

“Well, at least neither of us will be that comfortable. Or did you forget that you have no armor.”

“Rub it in Mugs, just rub it in.”

“I would but you have salt covering you already, I’d be scarring you far more than I apparently already am. Look, Let’s just find a metalsmith, get you a new coat of plates-“

“Brigandine, I’m not wearing a coat of plates, things are impossible to put on by yourself.” Mugs shot Cuphead a very unimpressed look while he began the process of changing. He felt strangely bare despite the ankle length gown. He agreed with Cuphead about not liking the low cut back and thin fabric with no corset to speak of, but there was no way he was telling Cuphead.

“Yes…Well, it will be the first thing we take care of, until then, you’ll have to wear your full plate set I think.”

“Oh, oh so you can be the first Lady to wear,” Cuphead squinted at the tag on the gown, draped over the ledge. “Cashmere, whatever that is, but I can’t be the first Knight to wear one of those suits we see?”

“One of us has to at least look the part. I’m in an outfit anyone on the street would wear, if you are too, how are we supposed to stand apart in case anyone needs help?” Mugs snatched the gown back and slid it on. The biggest issue with being Lady was that while dressmakers readily made gowns for him—Inkwell always left precious gems in an attempt to ‘pay’ for the gown so it was no loss on their part—and had his body measurements, they still tried to follow recent trends. This meant that sometime into the future, he’d be wearing these sorts all the time and would have to bear with it. He had heard of there being new styles of corset, and while he didn’t need them—technically his body would never reshape itself, porcelain bodies never reformed once the desired shape had been cemented in with by various means—it was a comfort thing. That, and if Cuphead had to wear heavy chainmail, it was only fair he wore a corset.

“You seriously want me wandering around in full plate armor?” Cuphead stared at his brother incredulously, resolutely ignoring Inkwell slowly bringing each piece of the full set to them, plopping them down at his feet.

“Well…I am missing the one thing that saved me the last time I got hit. So I suppose this would be a good time to up your armor.” Mugs didn’t sound too happy about shoving his brother in the plate-mail. That thing was heavy and always made Cuphead more irritable. Then, noticing the growing pile, he got an idea.

“Wait…the plate-mail set has its own chainmail. Sure you won’t have the brigandine, but you’ll have something. You can even use the grieves and gauntlets, I don’t think we’ll run into anything that Inkwell won’t be able to take care of, and Uncle Cagney is probably somewhere close by.” He pulled himself back over the ledge, trying not to let the dress catch on anything. Cuphead instantly felt like putting the plate armor over Mugs. Doing that would anger Inkwell though, and there was simply no way he was risking that. The sun shone brightly off of Mugs back, the white a stark contrast to the deep navy blue of the fabric.

“Anything is better than the war gear. Maybe we’ll find you a good corset replacement, if Inkwell doesn’t have the castle doing that already.” Inkwell did, in fact, have them working on it. The corset had nearly taken a butler’s head clean off. The lack of ability to pick gorgeous full gowns was the only incentive it needed to demand a rush order.

Both brothers, feeing significantly more bare than normal, spared a moment to feel a breeze they normally couldn’t, then headed for the nearest town with a metalsmith. If Cuphead was a bit more jumpy, and if Mugs kept checking to be sure the fabric wasn’t see-through, Inkwell said nothing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment of silence for the lost clothing and armor. They have served their owners well throughout this time, their sacrifices will not be forgotten. While I was tempted to put Mugs in a flapper dress, by the time I've got this set, those were out of style and ones with longer skirts were back in. Corsets that covered the whole body, streamlining it, were also made available at this time, rather than ones that made an hourglass shape. It won't help Mugs though, porcelain doesn't reshape itself. Anyone could be next up, Maybe even someone of the pig variety. I'll leave it up to readers who should have won the Cala vs. Brineybeard battle. Tough skin has nothing on concentrated cannon fire is all I'm saying.   
> Also, contrary to popular belief, full suits of armor actually fit amazingly well. They were like suits of the fabric kind, tailored to a specific person's body. They're just heavy due to a metric ton of layers. The unused plates will just return to the vault. This chapter was mostly half fun and half rest. I sort of felt like I hadn't properly explained how Lady kept getting perfectly fitting dresses. Coat of plates are indeed different from Brigandines. They're the earlier model of Brigandines and were far less refined. They also tended to tie at the back rather than the side or front like a Brigandine.


	16. Birdbrains abound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The roommate has yet to learn that sometimes, it's best to leave things closed and unbothered.

The date was the highlight of Devil’s entire life. Minus the time he swapped all of the other arch-angels robes around and buried their halos in random clouds. It had taken hours to fix everything and the only reason it ranked higher was due to his residual spite still shining brighter than the nipples on a well-oiled Djinn. It had been a week after it and the two—in between Devil imparting knowledge to the roommate to help them pass tests—had continued to interact. In a way it was almost as if the date hadn’t happened, there wasn’t an increase in physical contact, nor any more kisses—much to Devil’s minor disappointment—but there were new things between them as well. King Dice was far more teasing readily tossing coy grins, sly smiles, and flirty banter.

They both took to observing people from the rooftop of the apartment, watching for any drama that brewed down below. It was nice, neither minded their current relationship. King Dice had even remarked how he wouldn’t mind going on another date. It would have to wait, what with the final portion of the year flooding King Dice’s schedule with all manner of tests and demonstrations. Devil had offered to break out his lackeys if it would help King Dice study, though the witch in training did reject that offer. Mostly on the grounds of not wanting to see Wheezy again.

At present, King Dice was trying to talk his roommate out of messing with a very clearly cursed artefact. The thing was drenched in malice and a desire to do harm, even Devil was impressed at the sheer amount of hate coming from it. The roommate however, thought it would be great fun to see just what had been locked away in the bottle.

“Okay, I understand the curiosity, but need I remind you that the last time you brought a cursed thing in here it was that mirror. I think that thing is still going to therapy.” King Dice waved to the bathroom behind him, where on occasion, pathetic sobbing could be heard from the mirror that had been repaired and put back on the wall. He’d always suspected his roommate was a sadist, it was good to have definitive proof though.

“I hear you, I just really think it could be fun. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen. It’s a birdhouse for Hell’s sake. Most we’re probably going to get is a parrot that knows how to insult us in fifty different languages.”

“No, that’s just what you want to pop out of it.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement. Enough chat, lets look!” With a great flourish of one hand, the roommate grabbed the seal over the door, and tore it off. Three things happened in such quick succession, not even Devil could figure out in what order they occurred. First, a great blue and red bird, patches of blackened tar like skin flashing here and there, burst out into the apartment. Then, either it opening its wings released a hail of feathers that cut into everything in the room, or it was the reason the roommate went crashing through the apartment door, through into the other door across the hall. There was a rather familiar scream—for some reason, Devil heard the sound of two coconuts smacking into each other—but he was more focused on the fact that he had been hit only once through the whole ordeal.  The rest of the room was peppered, almost shredded.

Turning his head, sending a great spray of golden blood across the wall next to him and the ceiling, he tried to find King Dice. King Dice was staring at his suit, or what was left of it. The left sleeve was entirely gone, speared off by a feather, the chest had four feathers buried so far, they stuck halfway out his back. His pants were more shorts now, with the pant legs barely hanging in place from just a few threads still attached. The bird screamed something about his son bringing about a new age of industrial torment; Devil didn’t care.

“Uh, honey?” He tried, using a nickname he’d been dying to test. There was the sound of something dropping, something massive. It shook the building in a way that the bird wasn’t and couldn’t. The bird seemed to realize there was something amiss. Right about the time he set his foot down and the glass table, that Devil had seen take a lot of abuse and not even crack, shattered. Glass embedded itself in the bird’s talons, nearly shearing one of the toes off. He screeched and fell back directly onto his son. Coincidentally the son had been trying to scurry over the couch, so his head had been over the floor while the rest of him on the couch, over the arm rest. The weight of his father snapped the birds neck so quickly it was hard to determine if it had truly happened or not.

“Wally Junior?” The giant bird weakly called out, voice shaking from pain and shock. He tried to lift himself up, which was the second when the chandelier, equally sturdy as the table, snapped off its’ chain and dropped onto his head. He shouted in surprise, and tried to roll to get the thing off of him, panic settling in. Devil would be enjoying the odd show if it hadn’t been for his mounting interest in King Dice’s suspicious amount of silence.

The last time his outfit had been ruined, King Dice had thwacked his roommate upside the head with a broom until the roommate vowed to never try making runes that would blast out confetti. There had been so much cussing and shouting and utter anger from King Dice, Devil’s ears had gone numb. Now, with it twice as ruined, there was nothing. He was just staring at the bird, eyes alight with an unholy green glow.

The baby bird jerked violently, half its’ body crushed from the father falling back on it, the other half pressed deep into the cushions. It sounded like the bones were trying to crack back into place, but something was preventing it. The father had rolled off the body and was trying to stand on one foot while avoiding the glass _and_ trying to turn so he could see his son. His torn foot clipped table ledge and his body convulsed in agony, pitching to the side and crashing down onto the floor, head sticking out of the doorway into the hall. Directly in front of it was the blonde neighbor, the one that gave Devil memories of Mangosteen and coconuts. She had a nasty cut on her head, blood on her face, and murder in her eyes.

With strength he didn’t think she had, she grabbed the bird by his beak and yanked the thing into her room. Feathers were torn out from being caught in between the door frame and his body, but somehow, she was able to do it. She sent King Dice one cold glance, eyed his suit, nodded in sympathy, and with no door blocking his vision, Devil watched her exact revenge for the broken props in her room. The bird couldn’t have had worse luck in Devil’s opinion. Then he realized he said that out loud while looking at the baby bird corpse.

“Oh he can, and will.” King Dice hissed with such certainty that Devils fur rose on end. He finally spotted the lone pink die sitting on the floor, the single dot staring back at him. The birdhouse lit up a deep red, disgusting hole riddled boney hands bursting from the doorway and dragging the house closer to the baby bird. One hand snapped out and latched onto the creatures’ foot, beginning the process of pulling the body back in. More and more hands grabbed on, digging black talon like nails into the flesh and feathers. The head limply flopped over the arm rest, having been the lone thing preventing the house from fully pulling it in. Once done, the hands shoving the body back in roughly, it began crawling towards the father.

Who was in the very painful process of being strung up by his broken wings.

That Sally woman didn’t fuck around when it came to her things apparently.

Devil watched the house begin devouring the bigger bird, forcing it back in even at the expense of ripping the wings until they gave and he was unceremoniously returned to his prison. Devil, barbarous sneering grin crawling up his face, lips stretching unnaturally wide, realized just what King Dice meant. The bird was now trapped with his dead child in that box. That box that seemed only geared towards preserving the current state of its’ prisoners. This meant the father would forever be stuck with a torn foot, broken wings, and a dead child whose body would never rot. He supposed the box might heal the father up, but there was no way it could perform necromancy.

Sally stormed over, dropped the roommate at King Dice’s feet, and strode away, muttering about how long it would take to fix her dragon prop. In the silence, with the roommate cowering under King Dice’s gaze, no one moved.

“What we learn.” King Dice didn’t ask, he stated, with a voice colder than the lowest pits of Hell.

“To take your word for it and listen to your warnings and instead of opening cursed objects in the room to take it upstairs. I surmise I’m about to learn the true meaning of bad luck and no amount of lucky rabbit’s paws are going to save my ass.” The roommate answered, voice meek and body language submissive.

“You better have started cleaning by the time I come back out.” King Dice gave his roommate one more long, frigid look, then stormed off back to his room. Devil, neck healed, focused on the roommate once King Dice had closed the door behind him.

“What do you mean ‘learn the meaning of bad luck?’ He gonna put a hex on you or something?” Devil asked, once again realizing he didn’t know King Dices’ brand of magic. The roommate, gingerly pulling the broom out from the kitchen closet, spared him a look.

“He doesn’t need to hex me to do that. Man, I bet I’m going to flunk this next test now.” The roommate whined. Despite their complaint, Devil still couldn’t figure out how else King Dice would ensure the roommate, who, based on the contract shouldn’t ever fail a test, failed. If the roommates’ assumption was indeed correct.

“That shouldn’t happen, there should be no way for you to. Or did you forget you’re the one that summoned me.” He said as much to the roommate. His contractor paused mid sweep and turned to fully face him.

“Oh I get it, you still haven’t guessed what he is. You’re actually courting someone without knowing what they are? Wish my last date had been like that.” They muttered the last bit under their breath, then returned to sweeping. The fear of King Dice’s retribution far greater than any other emotion or need to continue a conversation. Devil, realized he’d get nothing else out of the roommate, figured now would be the best time to check on his promised gift to King Dice. He hoped the suit he had the best tailor in hell working on would be as grand as the man claimed. It had taken him hours with Chips Bettigan, the best at picking color and Wheezy, the best at picking fabric, to find the perfect material for it. With any luck, it would be so stunning, King Dice would give him another kiss. That, or make up for the loss of his century old favorite.

Which might also net him a kiss. He just really wanted a kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be flat out saying what King Dice is soon, probably within the next chapter or so. With how many hints I've dropped I'd be surprised if it came as a surprise to what he is. Only reason I didn't do it in this one is because I promised to put in a warning before I did. I also said that every boss would be in here, I did not say that they'd be facing off against the brothers. Without any reason to be after them or aggressive, some just wouldn't interact with them at all. 
> 
> Side note, I also mentioned that Wally jr.'s lil bird body was trying to repair itself, so while he isn't forever dead, he will be for a while. However these two also won't reappear so that doesn't matter! Just wanted to soothe any ruffled feathers over what happened to him. Despite this being significantly shorter than the last Dice chapter, there was no way to make this longer without packing it with empty carbs. Will the next one be longer? Who knows! I sure don't!


	17. Grim Grinning Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite what the title says, the pudge dragon isn't dead.

The interesting thing about a Knight’s armor was that they didn’t just have one thin layer of something. Most often, they had layer upon layer of things designed to protect and prevent various methods of death. All of it started with the thin undershirt, which, luckily for Sir Cuphead, had survived. Then came the Gambeson. Now, for those with fleshy bodies, they needed a Gambeson to prevent broken bones. Porcelain types needed them to prevent broken everything. Cuphead’s Gambeson hadn’t quite survived. Linen, wool, and cotton didn’t do well in salt water. He had his chainmail, but he could already tell he’d need to be under his siblings healing magic based on the scraping sound the chainmail made around his unguarded collar.

His brother glanced over his shoulder at Cuphead, as if sensing his Knight’s need for healing. Mugs reduced his quick pace so Cuphead could get closer, then gave a burst of healing magic. Sure, the action wound up healing wounds on a few other people as well—The Lady never _had_ been good at targeted magic—but he didn’t see any harm in that. As a plus, that clued anyone that had been on the fence that they were indeed in the presence of the Lady and Knight. This had the added bonus of spreading the word that the two were within city limits.

The city was bustling, the brothers hadn’t been in such a busy setting since the start of their journey in the city around the castle. The buildings towered over their heads, some looking to be at least ten stories tall. Streets paved with smooth asphalt, brick facades adorned with bright lights that would bathe the night in vivid technicolor. Everything was far different from the dirt roads or cobble paths spiderwebbing their way around Inkwell. The Lady and Knight were just about blindsided by the sudden change.

The sudden increase in people approaching them reminded them of an internal joke amongst the Lady and Knight’s that entering cities was dangerous for two reasons. The first being once word got around the representatives of Inkwell had arrived, it caused a flood of people ‘needing help’. The second being once they entered, it would be weeks for them to leave. Just when they thought they’d be able to escape, another would need their help.

Inkwell wasn’t sure when people had changed the reason for the Lady and Knight from ‘solving problems that could lead to major conflict’ to ‘getting my cat out of a tree’ but it couldn’t figure out how to fix the error. The boys were lucky this time around. Though they were indeed stopped, half the time it was to compliment the Lady on his dress, the other half was sympathizers to the Knight, wondering who had ruined his armor so much he’d had to abandon it. Cuphead, entirely unwilling to say a giant undead fish lady had crushed it under her tail, had used a myriad of excuses. Mugs had let Cuphead have his fun making up the stories. He was completely pleased that his mother’s fears of showing ankle being detrimental to the health of the Lady’s position was no longer a thing to be worried about. As such, he was more than glad to let loose a bit.

Choosing to wander for an hour, stopping when requested, lending an ear when needed, healing an entire city park on accident, the boys kept up their steady, relaxed pace. Hustling would just carve more gouges into Cuphead’s shoulders and collar if he was being honest. Inkwell, content watching its children aid the people, as per their job, let them do as they pleased. It just about waved Cagney off, until a beacon of old magic entered its air space. Inkwell, entirely dumbfounded, seeing as it hadn’t seen a creature like the one flying high above in a good century, forgot to alert the two.  

\---0---0---0---

It took them the better part of two hours to find the places they’d needed. As it turned out, the corsets of now aimed to give women a more boyish figure. Cuphead spent a good fifteen minutes laughing at the irony. His brother had just tiredly stared at the store clerk with the gaze of one who had long since given up. The only upside was that the castle was working hard at making a new one for him, one that was more bolstered, almost like a personalized Brigandine. Now that his body had the shape needed to fit the dresses almost perfectly without any help, the corset would just act as a piece of armor. As Mugs grew older, and as his body filled out more, it would continue molding to the shape of the corsets.

For now, that meant he’d have to wait for a corset and would be stuck in the pretty but light dress for another day. Cuphead still had a brief giggle over the displeased, scrunched expression Mugs wore for the amount of time it took to find a metalsmith. Luckily for Mugs, or rather, coincidentally, the man they found working the furnace, also recognized the dress he was currently wearing.

“I had wondered where it went.” The pig spoke in a voice that shook the surrounding metal even without yelling. He jerked his head towards the clothing store his workshop was attached to. The pig was a pig of many talents.

“I hope Inkwell left proper payment?” Mugs had replied, shooting glances at a nearby tree. The pig had arched a brow, giving him a nod. “Wonderful! Good job, Inkwell!” Cuphead thought Inkwell’s response of blooming flowers happily around the tree in a burst of colorful joy was a bit much. It made a little girl happy though, so he figured no harm no foul. He did give a suspicious trio of strangers a sharp glare after picking up spiking interest towards his brother. Anyone dumb enough to try kidnapping the Lady when their Knight was around deserved white hot metal dripped down their throats. Cuphead was more than willing to use the sword being hammered into proper shape for that exact purpose. Distracted as he was, he didn’t hear Mugs explain what Cuphead needed replaced.

“I’d have to get measurements to make that Brigandine of yours, but I’ve got some other things that you can try right now.” He pointed them to the back wall where gambesons, undershirts, and other various fabric armors hung. Mugs wandered into the store, looking through the dresses for a little while, well aware Inkwell was most likely watching to see what caught his eye. Bless its’ giant landmass soul, it did try to give the two a chance to pick the things they wanted to wear and would base its own decisions on that. So he gave one rather gorgeous full gown an extra long glance, then went to join Cuphead.

Cuphead was in the process of trying to find a spot to rest his own chainmail so he could get a better feel for the gambesons.

“I’ll hold onto it!” Mugs offered. He wondered why the pig, Porkrind according to the name tag, gave a surprised snort. Cuphead got that mischievous grin that usually set warning bells off in Mugs head, but it was chainmail, and he didn’t think it could be that heavy.

It could indeed be that heavy.

He had but a moment to give a small ‘oh.’ in surprise before he was tipping backwards and into Porkrind. Porkrind easily hefted the armor out of his arms. Cuphead was too busy laughing again to be of any help. It was times like this that Mugs wished he would be allowed to punch his sibling, even a little. A figure dressed in fine clothing, peeking in and watching from the window, scowled. They went unnoticed by the trio inside the shop.

“They’re a little heavy Lady Inkwell, you can try a few Gambesons on though if you’d like. Some folk have taken an interest in wearing them as coats for the winter.” He gestured to a few far more stylish looking ones. Mugs took the offer, giving Porkrind a far sweeter smile than the icy one he sent towards Cuphead. Cuphead knew that smile was a promise for revenge. Cuphead did not care.  

“I think,” The Lady said as he pulled one of the thinner ones on. “That I would make a great Knight.” He proudly posed with his hands on his hips. Cuphead, wearing one of his own –albeit thicker as well as made of far more sturdy material—mimicked the pose.

“You can’t even lift the chainmail, Mugs. I don’t think you’d even have it in you to stab someone.”

“You’re saying that because you know you’d make a horrible Lady.” Mugs teased back, sending his brother a playfully mocking glance out the corner of his eye. Cuphead made a few aborted attempts at retorting, then quietly picked out new chainmail that would replace the one that was supposed to be used with the full armor set. Mugs sent Porkrind a smug smile of victory. Porkrind thought the two were far too adorable to pose any kind of threat no matter who was wielding the sword.

\---0---0---0---

It was around the moment Cuphead was putting his fully fitted Gambeson on that a woman came bursting into the store. She looked frazzled and only paused for a split second to pick out Mugs figure before she was darting across the store, grabbing Mugs wrist, and hauling him out. She kept babbling something about a dragon on the outskirts, her words coming out far too quickly for Mugs to get in any words of his own.

“Wait! I didn’t even—oh!” He gave a helpless glance back at Porkrind while Cuphead flailed, one arm stuck in the chainmail and the other stuck against his chest. He’d dropped it mid-way down and it took Porkrind hastily lifting it up and setting it back down properly over Cuphead’s shoulders for Cuphead to get free. He called out an apology and rushed off. A minute after he’d gone, the door creaked open once more, and a tiny vine slithered in, paused to look at him, then wiggled over to the dress the Lady had been looking at.

It grabbed the gown, pulled the dress out the door, then returned once more with at least ten large emeralds. It tapped the floor by them, gave one last wave like wiggle, and then was back out the door. He stared blankly at the gems for a few moments, trying to decide whether it was creepier to see Inkwell in action than wake up and just find a gown missing and payment on the counter or floor.

\---0---0---0---

There was indeed a dragon. A massive, bright green, somewhat tubby, dragon. Mugs, in his thin dress, was dwarfed by the thing. It had teeth the size of his forearm and thicker than his waist. He really wished he’d kept the Gambeson on. It was currently perched on the tallest building in the city letting out a roar that shattered nearby windows. Glass rained down on the people scrambling to get away. Mugs, unable to do anything, could only watch helplessly as the people he was supposed to aid were riddled with cuts. Around about the time a woman nearly got her arm sheared off by a heavy sheet of glass, Mugs tossed aside all thoughts of using the cute and polite route.

The Lady slammed his heel down on the pavement, a burst of healing light eclipsing even the light of the sun. It healed the injured faster than the pain could set in. Inkwell rumbled in reply, the buildings shaking for an entirely larger reason. The people dove into the buildings, seeking shelter from the potential battle. The dragon, not expecting a challenge, _finally_ looked down. His eyes locked onto the only one not running away or looking afraid. He noted that the small creature was rather finely dressed, which worked great for what he needed. Claws easily the size of Mugs entire leg carved deep marks into the walls of the building he’d perched on as he made his way down to greet the child.

The dragon opened his mouth to give a verbal ‘hello’, however, something caught his eye. Someone much like the small princess—what else could she be, at least that was what the dragon reasoned based on the lovely outfit—but far less dainty. That one had armor on, not quite like the great books his draconian brethren’s library depicted, but close enough. He gave a deep, rumbling snarl, one heavy paw crushing a metal cart with ease. The moment his body got low enough, there was another sharp crack of the princess’s heel, then, vines burst out of the cracked pavement. The dragon let out a squeal of surprise, his intimidating glare instantly changing to a dopey, wide-eyed look of shock. The princess wasted no time stomping up to him, fury lining her tiny frame.

“You _rude lizard!_ ” The princess snapped out, giving him a look full of disappointed anger. “The first dragon I ever get to see, and he’s rampaging around like an uncivilized gecko!” The dragon watched the adorable porcelain child throw his arms out in disbelief. “You couldn’t have made a less insulting entrance if you tried! I mean honestly, was there any reason to do any of what you just did?” The dragon opened what little of his mouth he could to answer, his action was useless. “No. No, there wasn’t. Then, then you have the audacity to snarl at my brother! The next thing out of your mouth had better be your name and an apology.” The princess, finally close enough to stare him down, did so with an unwavering stance, crossing his arms across his chest. The vines loosened on his maw, allowing him a chance to speak finally.

“Um…. Hello princess? I am Grim Matchstick! I’ve come seeking a Knight to defeat and a princess to protect from said evil knight. I apologize?” He tried, his tail giving a short wag. The knight, having finally reached the scene, gave an indignant squawk.

“My Knight, evil? Hardly. Sure, he’s a pain, but he’s not evil, and I’ll have to let Uncle Cagney break your neck if you try killing him.” The vines tightened considerably around his body for just a moment.

“Are you quite sure he isn’t evil? All the books say Knights are horribly rude people who come storming innocent dragon’s hoards. Of course, they also show princesses being forced to submit to the evil Knights wishes after he forces her to return to her castle prison.” Even Cagney, hidden below the street was speechless. Cuphead’s face grew bright red with indignation. Mugs fought to bite back a smile, he didn’t think it would help at this second.

“I… No. My brother would sooner stab someone if they tried to lock me away. Or I’d escape, either way, it wouldn’t end well for the captor. He isn’t evil, now, if you promise that you won’t hurt him, Uncle Cagney will let you go.”

“I will?” Was the muffled response below their feet. Onlookers gazed on in awe at how within minutes, their Lady had tamed a dragon. Grim gave a hesitant nod, looking quite put out, but unwilling to battle while a princess and his guardian was so close.

“You will, thank you so much Uncle!” Cagney burst out of the ground, reassured that his face wouldn’t be blasted with dragon fire. He sent a withering glare towards Grim.

“Would you happen to know where any evil knights are then? It’s the only way I’ll become a full dragon. I had no idea it was so rare to find a knight these days!” Grim whined, giving Mugs a doleful expression, ignoring Cagney entirely. Cagney, being highly flammable, had no problem with this. Cuphead was more than happy to bring attention to himself.

“What I’m hearing is that if you slay a knight _or_ protect a princess you become _even more_ dragon-like?” He asked, poking at a claw with his shoe. Grim gave a hefty nod, eyeing him, as if mentally demanding he do something evil. “Why don’t you just stick around and wait for some big bad to come after my brother. I don’t mind letting you get one save in, that’ll count right?”

Grim paused for good long time, thinking it over in his head, trying to find a flaw in the plan. Finding none, he perked right back up.

“Well I don’t see why it won’t, give me but a moment!” The next thing the giant dragon with a fifty-foot wingspan did, was shake violently, like a wet dog trying to dry its fur off. Cagney shielded Mugs with one of his hands while Cuphead scrambled to back up quickly enough to avoid being squished. It rained bits of rubble mixed with gleaming green scales from Grim’s motions. Pleased with his haul, he stopped. As carefully as a huge beast could, he scraped a lone scale the size of Mugs’ palm over to Mugs.

“There you go, that should be all you need to call me if anything happens, just use it to whistle like you tiny folk use a blade of grass. I’ll hear it wherever I am and come help! Dragons are awful fast so it won’t take me very long.” Grim said, his expression and tone both pleased. Cuphead raised an eyebrow, pointedly staring at the dragon’s rotund belly. Grim either didn’t notice or ignored it. Mugs picked the scale up, glanced at his thin dress with exactly zero pockets, then handed it over to Cuphead. Grim leaned over Mugs, letting his maw hover over the far smaller figure. With one giant sniff that made Mugs dress nearly come off his body had it not been for his panicked motions to hold it down; Grim memorized his scent. The more he had to recognize the child the easier he would be to find after all. He gave the stunned city one last pleased nod, then took off.

From a building nearby, the trio heard a lone boy ‘whisper’ “Mama, I saw the Lady’s underwear, does that mean Inkwell is going to kill me?” With that, Mugs face flared a vivid blue seen even after he buried his face in his hands and screamed into his palms.

\---0---0---0---

A lone figure in an upscale building scoffed at the sight of the Knight laughing hysterically while his Lady was consoled by the flower. Through the shattered windows the person could see the Lady quickly make his exit from the embarrassing scene. Had _he_ been in the Knight’s position, he’d have acted far better. That poor Lady was far too good for the sham of a Knight by his side. Luckily for the fair diplomat of Inkwell, the figure knew _just_ who could grant his wish.

The Lady deserved only the best, after all.

\---0---0---0---

“We can never go back.” Mugs said with a despondent slouch to his shoulders, face still bright blue.

Cuphead just laughed. Through his hysterical laughter, he got out “You never… you n-Hahaha…You never corrected the dragon! You let a tubby lizard call you princess! Ahahahaha!”

Mugs gave a silent plea to Inkwell, begging it to let him hit his brother _just this once._

\---0---0---0---

The two got out of the city as fast as possible. Cuphead was a bit saddened that he’d have to wait for the castle to get a brigandine. His brother’s need to get away from the entirely awkward situation took precedence however, so he figured he could make do for now. He idly ran his gloved hand around the outline of the scale in his pocket, wondering if it would be a one-time thing or if they’d somehow acquired another guardian like Uncle Cagney. He sort of hoped they hadn’t. He was the Knight, it was his sole job to protect his brother. If all these other sorts just kept doing his job for him he’d start to feel useless.

Lost in thought as he was, he failed to notice the way the path they walked on darkened. Mist began to cloud the path ahead, dampening sounds of regular life, hiding gnarled roots of the ever-growing number of trees as they headed into a gloomy forest. Eerie though it was, this was Inkwell. It wouldn’t be Inkwell without the scary forests and fields. Thus, being fair to him, it wasn’t like this was an oddity. The disgusting patchwork hand darting out of the dirt and latching onto his brother’s ankle was though. Not a whole lot of hands did much grabbing, especially corpse-y ones. Mugs didn’t even pause, he twisted in the grip and kicked the horrifyingly mutated creature in the face. The surprised expression that popped up on the Lady’s face made Cuphead wonder if Mugs had done that on instinct.

There was much shrieking, flailing, and apologizing.

“You can wipe that _smug_ **expression** off your face **_boy_.** ” The creature, it wasn’t human, nor was it any one creature. Cuphead had seen chimera’s in his children’s books. This thing was not a chimera. It gave him an ugly sneer before continuing. “When the **doctor** has his way with you, you’ll be lucky to be in **_two pieces_** after he’s done _carving you up._ ” The look the brothers gave it was confused, but all it did for a response was dip back into the dirt. Inkwell gave a rumbling hiss, bristling at the blatant threat to its’ Knight. Mugs grabbed his brothers arm and began pulling him along, stride determined. Cuphead readily followed, wondering if the thing had mistaken him for his brother.

The two power-walked through the forests ever darkening path, knowing thanks to Inkwell that a town was ahead. Mugs felt a shiver crawl down his back, the mist gave him a headache. Cuphead seemed unaffected by it, that, or he was choosing to ignore any ailments it was giving him in favor of focusing on any danger ahead. Mugs was nearly grabbed twice more. The Lady got the distinct impression these creatures were trying to slow him and him alone down. Which, now that he thought about it, was odd. The Lady should never be harmed or assaulted by the dead as long as he was on Inkwell’s soil, and yet here they were. There was a trail of unconscious amalgamations with a single shoe mark on their faces. If one more thing grabbed him he was going to light it up, let Inkwell’s magic deal with the problem.

The forest soon grew almost entirely quiet. The two could only hear the sounds of strange laughter, the sources hidden within the mist around them. Everything had a dark, almost sickly green tinge to it. The air grew sour with the stench of decay. Despite the fact that the sun should still have been casting plenty of light, the thick canopy blocked what the mist didn’t, leaving the two to use the sight Inkwell gave them to follow the path. Weeds grew up to their hips on either side, leaving streaks of water on their clothing and armor. Every once in a while, there would be a metallic creak, something the two had only heard while in industrial cities. They deciding pausing would only let the thing creaking catch up, so they maintained their quick pace.

Right as the duo began to hear signs of life ahead of them, the metallic sound grew in a crescendo to a grinding shriek. It was as if someone had shoved a wrench into large gears, causing them to warp and twist. The two felt something pour a liquid into their heads. Mugs whirled around, catching sight of two metal arms disappearing back into the dark mist. He went to turn to face his brother, only for the world to jolt and waver. He stumbled, body tilting at a dangerous angle. The Lady collapsed to his knees, vision spinning violently. He thought he heard the sound of his brother falling over, but his hearing was muddled. As he fell onto his side, through the blurry vision, he spotted Cuphead struggling to stay up on his hands and knees.

Mugs pressed his hand into the dirt, trying to get back up, but his arm shook with the strain of holding even its own weight up. Hearing heavy metallic sounds muffled by whatever was in his soul liquid and the mist, he twisted his head until he could see a shiny figure emerging from the mist. Cuphead lost the fight to stay up, and Mugs lost the fight to stay awake. His last thoughts were a jumbled mess of thinking the thing in the mist looked like one of those robots he’d seen on movie posters, and panicked worry for his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all ready for a slew of Lady chapters, because it's all I'm going to be posting for a little while. Three more chapters after this one, to be more specific. As I get them done, they'll be posted. This story is my favorite but boy did it get me stuck here. Writer blocks are no fun. Side note, if anyone has a boss they really want to see, just let me know. I've got a vague idea of the path they'll be taking, but that's not to say I can't let them wander. And though I've increased the chapter count, that's only to be sure I have room to write the bosses that are definitely going to be making an appearance. 
> 
> Fair warning, Kahl is one messed up scientist. I've been wanting to showcase the creepier side of Inkwell since the beginning. Now's my chance! Brace for impact in the next chapter.


	18. Luck be in a roll of the Dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if none of you haven't guessed what he is already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told ya'll I'd be writing up a storm for this.

Devil had been deep in thought ever since he’d realized that he had no idea what King Dice was. Evidently, gorgeous floating sentient die was not the correct answer. Or rather, wasn’t the entire answer. He’d even tried asking Hell if it knew, but all he got from the ungrateful hunk of dirt was a casual rolling shrug. It cared very little about what the thing its partner in crime wanted to marry was. Devil, however, did care.

It wasn’t because he was afraid they’d be incompatible, but because he feared he’d do something stupid to insult his future wife. By the sugary flaming wheel angels above would that man be his husband. But, as Pirouletta had said, the first step to a healthy relationship is knowing one another like old friends, and he didn’t even know what King Dice was. He was too afraid to ask the man himself, scared that if he did so, King Dice would be offended and refuse to go near him ever again. The very thought of being rejected by the man currently brewing up an odd potion made the Devil give an aborted sob. King Dice didn’t even pause, he whipped a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and handed it over to Devil. Devil gave a quiet thank you, then took the offered cloth. It was returned to King Dice covered in bright red stains, King Dice only let out a single unsurprised sigh.

Devil wandered off, plopping his squeaky clean furry ass on the couch in the living room. He had nothing more to do with the roommate being out taking a test. Hell was being a raging rocky asshole though, demanding he spend time with his darling instead of pacing a line in the floor below. There he sat, greatest angel in history, lord of sin, beast of evil, twiddling his thumbs on a couch. Taking into account his stupid appearance, he reached for a book with his tail.

\---0---0---0---

He had no idea that a book on brewing potions designed to cause shape-shifting—or odd growths, for the life of him he couldn’t fucking tell—could be so interesting. Lost in the pages as he was, when someone knocked on the door he let out a startled shriek that summoned four hell hounds and two ill-tempered rabbits. King Dice, who’d gotten used to finding the odd black hair on his clothing, just gave the dogs a resigned pat on the head. He didn’t go near the rabbits; those things were _very_ ill-tempered. He opened his door to greet whoever had knocked. It was his favorite neighbor. She greeted him politely, gave Devil a suspicious squinting glance, then focused entirely on King Dice.

“Hello, I’m calling in that favor you owe me.” She stated, getting right to the point. King Dice loved it when people did that. Ever since Devil arrived they’d gotten an increase in priests thinking they could best the Devil and worshippers wanting to kiss Devil’s ass. Sally was quite the nice change of pace. He could hear Devil sending the hounds and rabbits away behind him.

“Oh? Usually you hold onto those favors until a play is coming up, I don’t recall you posting any flyers on the board.” He responded, gesturing lightly to the corkboard down the hall. She nodded, an odd look crossing her features.

“Yes, You see, I ran into…” She paused, a blush slowly working its way up her cheeks. King Dice’s eyebrows rose higher and higher the more her blush grew and the longer her pause lasted. “A fine addition to my stage.” She let out an awkward cough. “I’m determined to at least try and look for him. Lost in a dance he took me on, I forgot to get his name. So, while I’m gone, I want all of my stuff protected.” She motioned at her own apartment door. He gave her a wide shit eating grin.

“What? The best theater performer in all of Inkwell, interested in a man? He must be quite the acting material.” King Dice teased. Devil poked his head out from behind King Dice, looking at the woman curiously.

“Well,” She gave Devil a pointed deadpan stare, “Its not like I’ll have to wait long to get another favor. What with the way your romance is going. Besides, when have I ever wasted a favor from Lady Luck?” King Dice gave an agreeable shrug, Devil gave a confused huff.

“What? Is that the potion you’re gonna brew up or something? Kinda weird-ass magic you got that can brew up a luck potion?” King Dice and Sally Stageplay both stared at Devil with disbelief clear on their faces. Sally was the first to break.

“He’s Lady Luck. The man whose non-existent throat you’ve potentially stuck your tongue down is Lady Luck. Are you… Have you been dating him the whole time without knowing?” She asked, incredulous shock written all over her wide-eyed stare. Devil’s jaw slowly sunk to the floor, his shoulders going limp and his back slumping forward. King Dice burst into bright laughter, sinking to the floor, unable to hold himself up.

“You got yourself a keeper!” Sally continued, giving King Dice a teasing grin. “He’s perfect! You’ll only have to get him a sock for anniversary presents and he’ll think it’s the best shit he’s ever gotten! Hell if he’ll know what it’s for though.” King Dice’s face flushed a bright lilac, his laughter only growing stronger. “Good news Devil, you have somehow, in all your infinite power, managed to nab the heart of the one you claim is always on your side. Hilariously enough, he really is on your side now! I’m gonna leave you two love birds alone. King? Make sure nothing happens to my props please.” She sauntered off, shoulders shaking with laughter.

King Dice barely had the strength to toss a single pink die over to her room, letting the object burst into a shower of light as soon as it hit the door. Devil stared off into the void. Down below his feet, Hell rolled with hysterical laugher of its own. His lackeys all let out varying sounds of disbelief, joy, or disappointment.

“Aw, shucks, I thought he was secretly the worlds first bodyless hooker.”

“Wheezy you are a misery to be around.”

“Zip it Chips, you lost the bet too.”

“You insulted the mustache of Lady Luck.”

“What kinda lady has a mustache?”

“One whose future husband owns your ass.”

“Oh, do _not_ say ass. I don’t want to be reminded of the fact that I know Wheezy has a hairy ass.”

Devil didn’t even have the current mental capacity to care about his lackeys chatter. He picked his jaw up off the floor and waved his arms, voice squeaking out half words. Finally, after regaining some of his senses, he spoke properly.

“You’re yanking my tail! There… Is that a nickname or something?” He watched King Dice burst into another fit of giggles instead of answering his question. King Dice shook his head, just about the only thing he could do in his current condition.

“No fucking way! You tellin me you’re the embodiment of luck?” King Dice weakly pointed to the door across the hall, body shaking with laughter.

“Go…pffft…. Go try and… try and break into her room.” He got out between giggles, remaining in his sitting position by his own door. Devil squared his shoulders, brewed up the nastiest idea of what he’d do to her room, and took a step over King Dice’s figure, across the hall, and right in front of her door. Just as his hand hit the handle, his fur burst into flame, his horns cracked, and he heard his lackeys once again.

“Uh… Boss? Half of Hell just burst into flames, and it ain’t Hell’s doing. The imps are acting like we dumped coffee down their throats and… _Boss they shaved a smiley face into Wheezy’s ass hair. Please, please Boss, get down here!”_ Devil slowly turned his head to face his wife to be, jaw once more on the floor. King Dice returned the awed stare with a playful, coy smile of his own, his eyes gleamed a vivid green.

“Did…Does that mean you heard me when I begged for our first date to go without a hitch?” Devil asked, embarrassment clear on his slowly fizzling out frame. His horns regrew in a matter of seconds. King Dice shook his head, finally getting the strength to stand back up, though, he’d still burst into a fit of laugher every once in a while.

“I thought you knew!” King Dice said after Devil returned to the room and closed the door. Devil meekly shook his head, staring at King Dice in a mix of awe and disbelief. The moment he’d stepped away from the door across the way, everything in Hell had begun to settle.

“Wait, that means you manipulated the game we had earlier!” Devil accused, dropping his tail. King Dice curled his fingers into Devils own.

“Darling Devil of mine, I don’t take kindly to cheating. The dealer thought a loaded pair in a casino was a good idea, and I simply couldn’t allow that. I certainly didn’t manipulate any other games we’ve had, changing the luck too often will only end up going poorly for me.” He leaned close to Devil, nothing but honesty in his gaze. Devil, ever capable of sensing a lie, was properly soothed.

“Does this mean every time we kiss I get a kiss from Lady Luck?” Came Devils quiet follow up question. King Dice nodded, lips curling into a smile.

“I’m not winning your games for you; a kiss won’t always ensure victory.” He teased, letting his other hand brush through Devil’s still fluffed up fur. Devil’s tail coiled around King Dices’ thigh.

“Can I get a regular kiss from Lady Luck?”

“You’ve got a better chance of getting that than a silly luck potion.” With that, King Dice closed the distance and the two kissed. Later on, when the roommate would return, they’d demand a play by play on what King Dice did to Devil as a show of bad luck. The other neighbors would wonder if the cheaper rent was worth the constant noise.

\---0---0---0---

Back in Hell, Devil watched his lackeys fix up the tattered remains of tapestries, burned and scorched as they were.

“Can someone fill me in on why I hear squeaking every time Wheezy walks?” He barked out, tired of being confused, and tired of the squeaking. Wheezy flared up, his face pinched. Chips burst out laughing like a hyena. Pirouletta gave Devil a tired, broken stare.

“I had to shave the rest off okay! There was no way I was going to walk around with a smiley face on my ass!” Wheezy shouted, dropping the charred curtains he’d been in the process of removing in a huff. The hall filled with laughter, Devil just gave Wheezy a judgmental squinting stare.

“It’s been years since I’ve been baby smooth down there! Keep laughing Mangosteen, I used your oil in lieu of shaving cream! My lush ass locks may be gone but my cheeks will be well cared for until that hair returns!”

Pirouletta quietly begged Devil to let her go back to King Dice or clean another part of the mansion. Wheezy stomped down the hall, squeaking with every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horrible with mysteries and dropping hints. If there is one thing I'll never regret, it's giving Wheezy a squeaky ass. You will pry an apology from me for that out of my cold dead hands.  
> King Dice is Lady Luck. He hates cheating because he feels like it's mocking him and taking the fun out of a game. Casinos can't blatantly favor the house either, if everyone goes in and loses, no one will go in. It's poor business, and King Dice couldn't let that fly. Why is Lady Luck trying his hand at learning all sorts of magic? Because he wanted to....test his luck. :D 
> 
> If anyone has anything they feel needs an answer about King Dice or Devil, ask away and I'll fit it into the chapters ahead. Or if they have something they want to see between the two. That or go visit my Tumblr and ask away. Onwards to the next Lady Chapter!


	19. Kahl-ifornia ghouls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As said before, Kahl is a demented scientist. Fair warning that while I didn't go into uber detail, he's done some jacked up things in the name of science. Inkwell isn't just a merry place full of sunshine. So, once again, warning, he did bad stuff. I don't tell you what he did but it is implied the kind of experiments done.

Waking up after being drugged was unpleasant. Waking up after being drugged to an unknown face was even more unpleasant. Waking up after being drugged to an unknown face hovering right over his own while unknown hands tugged at his dress and pulled at his body, trying to drag it, was the worst. Ladies were rarely fighting types. Ladies were supposed to be the diplomat. Sure, a few had been warrior sorts, able to fight along side their Knight, but Mugs was not one of those. He was a pacifist. His brother knew it, Cagney knew it, Inkwell knew it, everyone who ran into him knew it. What they didn’t know or seem to fully understand, was he had been raised by his mother. His mother, who lived by the belief of ‘be kind, but take no shit.’

Waking up drugged only made him disoriented. The hands were the first thing to go. He grabbed the hand scrabbling at his glove and twisted until the rotten bone cracked. Twisting on the ground, he whipped his leg out, taking off two heads that had been near his waist and chest, leaving only one last one that had been hovering above his head. Lady Chalice hadn’t _only_ left tips on how to use her spear. He gave the creature—a mess of metal pipes, green flesh, tar black ooze dripping from its ears—a sweet smile while he dragged a finger through the dirt between it and him. Inkwell sent it into the air without pause.

Granted, the noise of a chunk of dirt bursting up was loud enough to attract even more attention, but it was worth it. He quickly hurried into the fog, using Inkwell’s sight to find his way around. Unsure of how far he was from the town, he made it his goal to just get away from immediate danger or detection. While cutting through the brush towards the town he knew was ahead, he hiked his skirt up so it wouldn’t catch on any branches. Inkwell kept him on the path, trying to get a read on the people ahead to better protect its’ Lady. The best it could do was tell him ‘something isn’t right. Do not let yourself be seen.’. Mugs took the warning to heart.

\---0---0---0---

The town was an odd one. It looked like there had been a mine discovered somewhere nearby so the town had been quickly built to house the workers. Everything was made of either brick or wood, signs of decay were also clear. Through the fog he could see dilapidated buildings, facades tilted at odd angles, but what held his attention was the townsfolk. He’d seen walking skeletons. He’d seen half-rotted corpses. He’d seen just about every state of decay for every single species that walked Inkwell. It came with the territory of Necromancer. Never in all his years, however few that was, had he seen what the townsfolk had become.

It was as if a hospital and factory had collided and everyone in the buildings had been warped by both sides. He didn’t spot a single corpse that didn’t sport metal of some sort in some area. Some would be clawing their way around, lower bodies long since rotted away. Innards still dragged from a few, or tubes, in the dark he couldn’t tell. Those that had legs shambled, as if not used to the gears and rods that kept them from being like their legless brethren. He felt a gut twisting disgust curl up his spine at the sight. He _did_ wind up having ‘if I faint, Cuphead will die,’ on repeat in his head for a good long while after the sight.

Hands shaking, he pressed his palms to his thighs, giving himself a quick breather before he darted across the clearing between the forest and the first building. His brother was on the other side of the town if Inkwell was to be believed. So, all Mugs had to do was get through without being spotted. Easier said than done, when he realized the townspeople were practically drifting _everywhere_. Fearing he was about to be spotted by what sounded like a full-on golem—if the ground-shaking, heavy steps were any clue—he ducked into the first building he came across.

He regret going into the building the moment he opened the rickety old door. While the door didn’t creak, it had been acting as the sole barrier between him and the smell of long rotted food. He’d found his way into the general store, right behind the counter. From over it, he could see a few shelves lining the room, as well as thick, black ichor trailing around in the fetid rot staining the floor. He heard the door rattle behind him, so, tossing a plea for the building to be empty, he leapt over the dusty counter into the main store. His heels found not wood, but molded fruit. Once again, through the panicked squelching steps he took to get off the pile of rot, he kept the mantra of ‘if I faint, Cuphead will die’ going.

Trying to make his way to the front without stepping on fallen boxes of goods proved harder than thought. The ichor staining the ground was slick, aided even further by the rot in the floorboards. This place had been abandoned _long_ ago. He wanted to know what had happened to this place but figured he could learn all he wanted once he got his brother back. All that mattered to him was getting his Knight back and crushing the teeth of the one who took him under his rot stained heels. Just as he had managed to get to the other side, he heard the sound of metal being dragged. Freezing in place, his head alone swiveled so he could see the path he’d just taken. Through the shadows, a gleaming skeletal hand appeared from behind the shelf.

The Lady was vulnerable without his knight. The Lady wasn’t used to not having familiar shoulders to duck behind. The Lady was even less used to staring a metallic beast in its single eye as it pulled itself into the aisle. It only took a single glance for the thing to spot his gleaming white porcelain. The thing gave out a gurgling groan, black tar bubbling out of its mouth. Tufts of hair sticking to pieces of metal swayed with the swinging of its head as it tried to reorient itself. Every part of his soul pulsed with building adrenaline. Inkwell’s shriek was what got him moving once more. He took a step, finding another door towards the back, likely the back office. But it was between him and the creature. The creature, with its single blackened eye, green flesh, gleaming metal fingers, and no legs. He gave it a hesitant wave, which turned out to be the exact wrong thing to do.

It let out a far too loud scream, charging down the aisle with speed he didn’t think it should have. A bolt of terror cut through his re-frozen limbs, forcing them to move. In an attempt to get more time, he grabbed the shelf closest to him, and pulled on it. The shelves groaned but followed his direction, toppling over right as the thing got three fourths of the way down the aisle. It crashed on top of the creature, shaking the building with the force of the impact. He took the chance given to leap across the fallen heap of wood towards the back room. Behind him he heard the front entrance begin to creak with the sound of curious mechanical dead pressing on the other side. He threw himself over the counter, heels slipping in sludge but ultimately giving him enough traction to get across. Throwing open the door he raced inside just as the front entrance gave out.

He heard the sounds of confused scraping, as well as frantic scratching from the pinned creature. He almost whimpered once he realized there was no other door in this room. There was only a desk, a chair, a few scattered papers, and a few more book cases. There was also a gleaming skull staring at him from the floor, over half of its body gone to age. It was also staring up his skirt, a lone hand, the only one it had left, poked at his knee.

He would never apologize for screaming and stomping on its skull until the sounds of interested hostiles reminded him such actions were a bad idea. Somewhere out there, there was a soul in the after life that knew what he wore under the skirt. He hoped that soul ran into Lady Chalice and got smacked.

He threw his body into the door, slamming it shut right onto the arm of one of those with legs. The arm snapped clean off, falling to the floor. Through the wood he heard the thing give a put-out grunt. He knew the door was more of an inconvenience than anything, so without pause, he ran over to the desk, heels skidding with leftover residue. Putting all of his weight into pushing the desk, he managed to shove it into the door right before the other creatures opened it. The desk would only buy him more time to figure a way out, or a way to hide. As if answering his plea, because it had ignored the first one and felt it owed him, he spotted a door that had been hidden by the desk in the floor. A hand ripped a hole into the door, managing to gouge a line into his shoulder, tear one of the dresses straps, and give the creatures outside a view in.

Mugs figured death in a cellar was preferable to death in an office where a skeleton had peeked up his skirt. He threw open the hatch, then wasted no time dropping into the darkness below. Inkwell, sensing its Lady was no longer in any direct line of fire, dropped a tree onto the old building, crushing the roof, and permanently barricading the hatch where Mugs had gone. It wasn’t entirely useless, but entirely livid and more than a little vindictive.

\---0---0---0---

He found himself in a hallway lit by futuristic looking lights that cast a white glow. He squinted from the sudden change of dark to light. There was a booming crash above him, the hatch door shuddered, then a wave of pleased pride coiled in his head courtesy of Inkwell. Holding his dress up, he went the only direction available to him, forward.

He followed the rusted, dusty, but far less rotted hallway for a few minutes before coming across another hatch. It was also above him, this one also had a ladder leading up. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he finally managed to tie the torn strap into a sturdy knot, then ascended. He unlatched the lock, pressed his free palm to the old, rusted iron, and opened it up.

He had the slight hope that it would be a fabric store or would have something that he could use to cover himself up with. The less porcelain showing the better chance of stealth. Instead he came face to face with half a face. The deer creature stared at him, a single gleaming yellow eye looking right at him. It had no jaw, or any teeth remaining, but the antlers still stood tall and proud. Mind going blank, he did the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh I’m terribly sorry for disturbing you.” He said, polite as could be, then closed the door back up and latched it shut. He went back down, avoiding the ooze stains his heels left on the lower rungs. Continuing on, he found yet another hatch, and figuring he couldn’t embarrass himself further, he went up that one, unlatched it, and found himself in another building. From what he gathered, the hallway below linked up the buildings above, and was built after the buildings, not before. He gingerly made his way around what looked like the hotel, that or the dormitory.

As he passed by a window he swore he saw that deer from earlier peeking out from the building across the way, but one blink later and it was gone. Shiver curling down his spine, he went about trying to find something to cover up with. Instead he found a nail sticking out from a broken doorway catching on his skirt. He tried untangling it gently and was rewarded with the fabric tearing. He got flashbacks to that one nightmare Hilda had given him. If someone came near him with manacles he was going to beat them with the chains.

Silently despairing at the fact that he’d be facing his brothers kidnapper in a poor state of dress, he didn’t hear the door to the hotel opening. Instead of lingering, he traveled on, ducking into the first room and only finding a horror show. Every. Single. Bed. Was occupied by mangled corpses mixed with machines. There were people with wood shoved into long rotted wounds. Broken porcelain people, crushed and hacked up, being used as lamp stands. The smell alone nearly knocked him over, but the sight of what he could only describe as a torture room was what ultimately made him stumble and fall to his knees. He stared at the floor, getting his mind back in order, letting Inkwell send soothing waves through his soul.

He shakily stood back up, some hopeful part of his soul thinking this was the only room in such condition. There was no way every room would be full of experiments done to creatures that were then left to rot. The next room crushed that hope into a pitiful paste. On the back wall were the remains of a bird, body carved up like it had been used to study the species bone and muscle structure. The beds were full of the remains of similar skeletons. Some looked like they had been carved. Old stains told stories of saw blades carving into living flesh, shearing limbs off with no regards to anything but getting through the body part faster.

The next room was much the same, only this time it was even more porcelain beings. The carpet was a gruesome rainbow of soul liquid colors. The beds were so badly soaked that mold and mildew had taken over every part of the room they could. The air was saturated with a haze of spores. Through it all, he saw various mannequins propped up. A harder look told him the mannequins were actually various pieces of different porcelain beings glued together with metal braces.

The person that did this was likely the one that had his brother. His brother might end up as a lamp stand. Or a mannequin mixed with other pieces of metal beings tossed in. His Knight was alone with a deranged mind. Mugs felt another even larger need to find his brother wash through his soul. He turned on his heel, he’d find nothing but more horror here. He didn’t fancy trying to find a coat in this place either, back to the hatch he went. Or that’s what he tried at least. Instead he ran right into the deer creature. Its cloak enveloped him before he even knew what was happening. A breath and an odd popping sound later, he was back in the tunnel, and the deer was closing the hatch, disappearing behind the door.

He’d question it, but it was the nicest thing that had happened thus far and nothing seemed wrong. He just felt like something had poked at his magic for but a moment, as if to test it. Rubbing one of his arms, he carried on, sparing a quick thanks to the creature above, even if he didn’t think it could hear him. The faster he could get to his brother the better. Everything else was meaningless.

\---0---0---0---

He didn’t run through the halls; his heels made enough noise as is on the floor. He knew he was going in the right direction, his magic finding his brothers soul far easier now that he was closer. The fact that it was still finding his soul told him Cuphead was still alive. That it was burning brightly through the haze of mist somehow creeping through into the hall was even better news. Still, nothing would get between him and kicking his brothers kidnapper in the shins. His mother had taught him how to dig his heels into muscle and yank and tear, by Inkwell was he going to do it if he found his brother carved up like that bird.

Eventually the halls grew darker, then the tile became dingy limestone. It gave him a vision of a decrepit, long abandoned hospital. Based on the scene above, this hospital had no licensed doctors. It also had an odd hum that had his magic coiling like a snake, eager to strike. The last thing he noticed was that whatever was bringing the town to life was nearby. He knew this, because Inkwell itself was hissing at a perceived challenge. Only the foolish necromancer took on the Lady. If there was one sort of magic that never bested the Lady, it was necromancy.

Turning another corner in the labyrinth of dimly lit halls, he paused to peek into a room, wondering just where he was. Inkwell could only tell him he was under the surface, somewhere in the mines. Carrying on was his only option. In the room, he spotted only bones chained up to a wall in the back. Not in the mood for more horrors, he sharply turned from the doorway. Heels clicking despite his attempts to keep quiet, he didn’t realize it wasn’t just his heels making a clicking noise until two metal claws were wrapping around his wrists, dragging him backwards in a hasty stumble. Mugs ripped one of his arms free of the metal, the glove on his hand aiding him. He twisted around, coming face to face with the thing that had been in his hazy field of vision before he’d fainted earlier.

Inkwell shrieked in unholy rage, the walls shook, lights flickered. The thing, a robot by the looks of it, laughed. The Lady struggled to pull his other hand free while avoiding being grabbed again. Instead the arm coiled around his chest, extending out until his arms were trapped. It dragged him over until it could tower over him. Its antenna scraping the rust red ceiling, it had a smirk carved into its face.

“Intruder found, necromancing magic detected.” It said, voice echoing in the halls. Inkwell screamed ‘that’s the thing that took my Knight!’ which was all Mugs needed to hear to force his mind into action. It hefted him up off the ground with ease until it could look him in the eye.

“I am Dr. Kahl’s robot, I have assimilated forty-eight souls with power like yours.” It told him, a certain sadistic glee in its voice. “I am the one that powers the fog machine, with you, I will be able to maintain the army of dead longer. You will join the rest of the souls trapped here, thank you for your contribution to science.” Lady Inkwell stared back at the glowing face with an expression that had every soul within it cowering.

“Me. Be trapped in there?” He kicked the body of the robot hard enough to make the robot stumble. Yellow lightning began to crackle up and down his arms, the arm around him spasmed, then dropped him. He landed with far more grace than it did. It toppled over, arcs of magic tearing lines into the metal. “I’m not just any necromancer. I’m Lady Mugs of Inkwell, I’d say I’m at your service, but I’m about to show you exactly what the Lady can do. You see, necromancers don’t just bring back the dead. _We send them to the afterlife as well._ ” The yellow lightning was joined by green light, crackling the body plate, carving a line into the main chassis. The robot began squirming, metal feet scraping at the floor in an attempt to crawl away. A single heeled shoe slammed down onto its head, obscuring its vision.

“You’re in luck, I still need to find my brother, but you drugged us and kidnapped my Knight.” Mugs began applying pressure, though his body was far lighter than the metal one below him, his magic seared lines into the neck region, and metal began to screech. One by one, the robot felt the souls trapped in it get yanked from its power core. One by one the souls were released from the magic binding them to it, giving it the ability to raise the dead. The heel pressed down harder, until it was lifted off. For a brief moment, the sentience the robot had gained gasped with relief. All the data it had on this person was nothing but shows of mercy.

The heel came back down with so much force it broke through the already weakened metal. The last thing it saw was the Lady of Inkwell staring at it with unadulterated wrath, a cold gaze completely devoid of the mercy it weakly hoped for.

Mugs perked up, after his magic had finished returning every soul to the afterlife, he heard the faintest of voices the way he had been about to go. Then, as he picked up the head, he heard his brothers cries of pain. His heels dug into the ground, and he shot forward. He’d always been the fastest runner in the castle.

\---0---0---0---

Cuphead returned to consciousness slowly, mind groggy. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, and that’s when his headache was cleared by a wash of panic. His wrists were cuffed to a table. His ankles were in the same state, luckily though it felt like he still wore his pants and boots. He couldn’t say the same for his armor. Opening his eyes, he squinted at the bright light shining directly in his face. The light was promptly shifted away and replaced with a old man wearing thick glasses.

“Oh finally! That damn machine just about overdosed you! Positively pleasant to meet you!” The man said. Cuphead whole heartedly disagreed, before he could say as much, a finger was pressed to his mouth. “Wait a moment, I’ve got important questions to ask. Assistance with no drivel would be appreciated.” Cuphead turned his head away, looking for his brother.

“Now, studies show that you, the current Knight, or whatever you’re called, can communicate with the land I’m currently on. I insist you tell me how.”

“Where’s my brother?” Cuphead replied, panic and anger coiling through his soul.

“The blue one? Thought that was a girl. I don’t deign to keep track of what my guards do to unwanted useless trash. Now, if you please—”

“Insulting my Lady isn’t the way to get me to answer you.” Cuphead snapped, expression twisted in anger. Inkwell, through the haze still clinging to the edges of his mind, gave him a simple reassurance that Mugs wasn’t dead. The knowledge only settled him a little. Mugs being alive didn’t mean he was safe.

“Not answering questions won’t keep you in pristine condition.” The doctor returned, unimpressed. “Now, boy, I’ve tried discovering just how people chatter with a massive pile of sentient soil. However, my answers avoid me.”

“We’re born with it. Only my Lady and I are born with the ability to fully communicate, Inkwell can only talk to others through me.  It can speak to everyone, but only really speak with words to my brother and me. Where is my brother?” Cuphead had been threatened by his mother so often, threats did exactly nothing to scare him. The doctor began frantically writing on a notepad Cuphead just realized was resting on the table next to him. He also realized there were a lot of carving tools nearby as well. Inkwell reassured him once again, promising to him that his brother was on his way.

“How are you chosen, does it pick a different species every time? What sort of abilities are afforded to you? Does it impreg—”

“I answered one of yours, the least you could do is answer one of mine.” Cuphead interrupted. The doctor’s jaw clenched, veins popping up under his paper-thin skin. Behind him, a machine gave out a loud chirp. He didn’t turn to look at the machine, but Cuphead did. The behemoth mess of tubes and glass containers had a blinking yellow light on its input panel. He heard the doctor grumble something about incompetent inventions before he reached for a saw.

“My name is Doctor Kahl. I come from your neighboring nation, the one that was near wiped out by plague. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to watch nature best every one of your efforts to cure disease? Then have to wait fourteen years for a couple of unique specimens to leave luxury living and stumble upon my trap?” Kahl pressed a button on the saw, the blade whirred to life. Cuphead had never seen a saw shaped like a disk and capable of spinning with the press of a button. He really didn’t want it anywhere near his body. He shook his head in response, letting Kahl continue.

“We tried everything, we barricaded the infected in with their disease-ridden families, even the ones not inherently ill yet. There was no way to see who was sick until it was too late you see. We burned bodies, we used the blood of animals, we boiled basically everything that usually chased away illness, nothing. Over half the population perished. I was never nearly as insulted as I had been. None of my experiments worked, nature nixed every plan of attack. I was scorned by pitiful peasants.”

“I just asked where my brother is, what part of that sounded like ‘please tell me your life story, I’m so interested.’?” Cuphead, ever impatient, interrupted once again. The doctor slammed his hands onto the table, the saw blade carved a thin line into his arm where it hit. He hissed, yanking his arm away as best he could with it being trapped.

“Infantile interruptions incite irritated interactions immediately in response!” Kahl shouted, face turning red with anger. Cuphead flinched away, sure, Mugs could revive him, but the idea of his little brother having to pick up his body parts and put him back together, all while this guy posed a threat, poured cold fear down his spine. The doctor must have seen the fear, because in the next motion he was coughing into his hand as if embarrassed.

“Yes, you see, I’ve been at this for twenty years. I had to go slow until the town tossed aside notions of getting help. I _loathe_ nature. Its arrogance and constant need to one up mankind is irksome. We possess intelligence that creates. And yet, it constantly crushes us without a single thought!” Kahl shouted, voice echoing in the large room. Cuphead remained silent, Inkwell cackled, mockingly repeating the man.

“You, however, you can communicate. You’ve done it a few times now. I’ve read up on this countries culture. Your Lady is boring, bland. You’ve seen one grave robber you’ve seen them all.  You, less so. If I knew how to reproduce that trait, I could clearly prove my hypothesis correct. Nature can only do so much, it is up to man to show nature how it’s really done!” Kahl proudly puffed out his chest, nearly shoving the saw into it as well.

**“You’re nothing to me. I don’t like needless fights so I use my Knight and Lady. You could say I’m _ahead_ of your game.” ** Cuphead hated when Inkwell spoke through him, it was weird to lose control of his mouth. That and whenever Inkwell spoke, the ground always shook. The blade drove into Kahl’s coat; however, it didn’t do more than give him a shallow cut. Kahl froze, looking torn between answering rage and awe. Inkwell paused, as if distracted.

**“I don’t need my Knight to tell you I hate you though,”** True to word, a heavy pressure crushed down on everything in the area. **“Nature created you, but it won’t be me that puts you down.”**

The machine behind him beeped frantically, yellow light turning red. Kahl’s face finally settled on indignant rage, and he pressed the whirring saw into Cuphead’s unprotected side. The blade cut through his porcelain like a hot knife through butter. He choked on a scream but gave up holding any sound back when the blade went deeper in, sending a spray of soul liquid out into the air.

Right before it could go any further, the door was violently kicked open. There, panting, dress torn to hell, was his brother. In one hand was the head of a robot with a very clear heel print on its lower face. Cuphead had never seen his brother look so glacially angry. Without pause, Mugs hurled the head directly at Kahl. With precision he didn’t think Mugs had, the head smashed into Kahl’s shocked face, sending the doctor and the blade to the floor. Mugs prowled over to the doctor, his expression arctic, his body language deceptively calm.

Kahl let out a pathetic groan, pain laced in every movement as he tried to sit back up. Spotting the approaching Lady, he sneered.

“I’ve informed myself of your habits.” Kahl huffed, shoes scraping along the floor, unable to find the traction he needed to stand back up. He looked at Mugs like one would a testy child. “Pacifist. Mercy mongering. What are you going to do, lecture me?”

Mugs rested his hand over the wound on his brothers’ side, never looking away from Kahl while he healed it. The dent the robot had put into Kahl’s skull was also fixed, Mugs didn’t seem to mind however. There was a sort of listlessness to his movements, like his mind was elsewhere. He leaned over Cuphead, looking for any other injuries, his fingers brushed against Cuphead’s handle, then, a flat out ruthless glint shone in his eye. There was a merry chiming noise, a loud crash, then screaming. Mugs moved away, holding the spear charm.

“If you wanted my mercy, you shouldn’t have hurt my Knight.” He spoke in the same detached way he moved. Kahl spewed out angry curses, trying to pry the spear out of his shoulder. Pinned into the ground as he was, it was near impossible for the older man to so much as shift the weapon. Mugs leaned against the pole, gazing down at the doctor, amusement on his face.

“You forgot what I do, didn’t you?” Mugs paused to twist the weapon in Kahl’s wound, the man shouted and tried to grab Mugs ankle to pull him down. Instead he was rewarded with Mugs heel crushing the bones in his hand. “I’m supposed to solve the problems of the people of Inkwell. You’re a problem.” Mugs spoke over the doctors screaming.

He paused once more to snatch up a key around the doctors’ neck, examining it. The spear vanished, bells around his wrist jingling merrily. It reappeared between one chime and the next. This time, it buried itself into Kahl’s throat. The doctor’s body seized up, jerking pitifully, unable to move far. Mugs turned, unlocking the shackles around his brothers’ ankles and wrists, ignoring the blood-filled choking behind him. Cuphead, entirely speechless, slowly sat up, rubbing idly at the area on his side that had been cut open.

“Are you okay?” Mugs asked, pushing a few more pulses of healing magic. Cuphead nodded. Even if he had been a bit sore, there was no way he was drawing more of his brothers’ attention while his brother was this angry. The choking from behind them cut off, the body going still. Based on the still present icy chill wrapped around every bit of his Lady, Mugs wasn’t done yet.

The spear vanished once again, replaced by oh so familiar green and yellow light. Kahl let out a shriek, his face, still draining of blood, contorted into a burning rage far different from Mugs frigid wrath. He lunged at Mugs, who didn’t move. Inches before he hit the Lady his body locked up, hands hovering just above where a neck would be if Mugs had one. Mugs, having turned to watch the tantrum, gave Kahl a poisonous, sweet smile.

“You’re going to stay here until that mist fades off and all the souls trapped here get sent away.” He told the doctor, “if those creatures _somehow_ find their way to you before that, and manage to exact revenge? It wasn’t you that brought them back after all, then, oh well~” As if to answer where Kahl couldn’t, Inkwell once again shook. This time, it tore a gaping hole into the ceiling twenty feet above their heads. Mugs helped Cuphead up off the table as the dead, lured by the sound, began prodding around the new entrance to the once sealed area. The brother’s stopped only to reclaim Cuphead’s armor before leaving.

By the time the brothers found their way back out the hatch where Mugs had first spotted the deer, enraged screams began to crescendo, filling the halls, overpowering the screams of a mad scientist.

\---0---0---0---

“You… I… But….” Cuphead had been trying to find words for a good few hours. He’d said nothing while they’d been getting out of the town. Nothing while they picked their way back out of the mist. It was only when Mugs was trying to talk him into resting against a tree while Inkwell delivered a new gown. Mugs had been prodding at sore spots from when the robot had dragged Cuphead through the town to the underground. Deciding he was too tired after so much stress to answer anything though, Mugs shushed Cuphead, pressing him back against the tree.

“Later, brother. I’m tired, I’m filthy, I’m sure you are too. So just, _sleep._ ”

Mugs watched his brother drift away without any more fuss. He spared one last thanks to that deer in the hotel. Had it not shortcut him to the hatch once more, he got the feeling he’d never have made it in time to keep Cuphead’s wounds to a minimum.

\---0---0---0---

Next thing Cuphead knew he was opening his eyes to the morning sun, his brother was once again spotless and in a new dress. Mugs was still without his corset, so the dress was much like the torn up one at his feet. This one had a looser skirt but was just as elaborate as the last.

“I think Chalice left more than just know-how on using a spear.” He finally said after standing back up, stretching his legs out. Mugs responded with a confused hum.

“Brother, I’ve always been like that, she just left some knowledge. It really came in handy too! I would have had to get creative if I had wanted to get the keys off of him.” For a pacifist who had just brutalized a man and left them for double dead, Mugs sounded far too happy. Cuphead shot him a disbelieving stare.

“I’ve never seen it then.”

“That’s because I’m usually the target so there’s no need to fret so much.”

“Yeah but… _You call that fretting?_ ”

“Cuphead, how many times have _you_ been kidnapped?”

“….Fair.”

“Exactly, I’m allowed to be a tad upset when some quack scientist takes a saw to my brothers’ side.” Mugs spoke with his nose tilted into the air, his posture playfully haughty. Cuphead decided to let it go. He was the Knight, and Mugs was the Lady, they couldn’t linger on thoughts that didn’t truly matter in the long run.

“Well maybe if you didn’t make such an easy target~” Cuphead teased back. Mugs laughed, and that was when a gate to hell popped open, and the Devil himself poked his head out.

“Hey, you the Lady? Yeah you the Lady, hey I gotta borrow you real quick, be back in a second!” He stepped out, picked up the Lady of Inkwell like one would a sack of potatoes, and went right back into the portal. Cuphead stared at the spot for a few seconds.

“Did… Is… Was that Hell? Why is Hell a ritzy hotel?” He weakly asked Inkwell. In response, Inkwell let out an indignant shaking scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He dead. No one takes Mugs brother and gets away with a light scolding. This is the first time Cuphead has been taken, but luckily, Mugs knew where he was so it was more a matter of getting him back Cuphead before he had to be like a few of the other ladies with dead knights. He'd be far more panicked if there was no way to know where Cuphead was. Deer guy is best guy. Deer guy will never show up again. 
> 
> Kahl did bad stuff, he wanted to figure out nature in its entirety, and with no morals to stop him, he ran free. I swear I don't hate the guy, but his in game level shows destruction and red skies and bad industrial revolution levels of stuff, and that time was horrible for everyone not rich. He's also definitely dead, so....that tag is actually relevant now. Never piss off a necromancer, they'll off you just so they can bring your ass back and beat you again.
> 
> Devil, what are you doing man? Taking the Lady like that is rude, what would your own Lady Luck say?


	20. Grave rolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devil kidnaps kids to earn brownie points from his lover. He regrets it, then doesn't. The last chapter featured gross science, this one is far more holy.

King Dice thunked his head repeatedly on the desk he sat at. Devil, shrunk to the size of a golden retriever, was perched on the corner of the desk, trying to sneak a pillow under his beloved’s head. He was quite worried King Dice would get a head ache at this rate, but the man refused to let him help. He’d even brought a corpse fresh plucked from some random funeral to try and help.

That grandmother had _spot on_ aim, his head _still_ throbbed.

“Honey, I swear I’ll figure out a way to help, please stop hitting your gorgeous face.” He pleaded, tossing aside the pillow, he’d never get it under at this rate. King Dice glared at the book he’d shoved away before beginning his act of frustration.

“What are the chances that I’d have no luck in grasping how to bring back a smelly corpse?” He griped. Devil shrugged weakly, mind struggling to figure out any way he could help. It was a big part of the grade to be able to revive at least one thing, and thus far, King Dice hadn’t been able to bring back _anything._ His roommate had sympathetically given him a goldfish they’d revived yesterday.

A stray glance at a dress hanging in King Dice’s closet had him perk up. He distinctly recalled hearing numerous mentions of some Lady that was a super necromancer for Inkwell. He scrabbled off the desk, growing back to his default height. King Dice tiredly watched him summon another portal to Hell. He closed his eyes, fully prepared to have to apologize to another grieving family.

If he didn’t love Devil so much he would have helped that grandmother shove her crucifix down his throat. Hearing the portal open back up, he spoke up.

“Devil, I swear if you brought back _another_ corpse, I’m leaving you to handle the angry family….” He froze, eyes growing wider and wider. The Lady of Inkwell peeked at him from his awkward position draped over one of Devil’s shoulders. King Dice closed his eyes, frame rigid.

“Did you kidnap Lady Inkwell?” His voice was deceptively calm.

“He did!” The Lady helpfully answered, sounding far more curious than insulted or scared; odd considering he was slung over the shoulder of the king of sin.

“You said he’s an ace necromancer or what have you, and you need help, so why not the best kind of help?” Devil argued, far too pleased with his logic. King Dice idly lifted up one of his slippers, examining it while one of the dearest people to a sentient landmass known for being vindictive was placed down. In the next moment he was using the slipper to smack Devil in the head, some foreign part of him thinking it might knock necessary sense into his dipshit lover. Devil flailed.

“What. Were. You. Thinking? Did you _not_ pay attention when they were talking about the most important people to Inkwell? You furry son of a bitch!” Indignant thunder rumbled above, King Dice paid it no mind. He did pay full attention to the small, polite cough from the child trying to bite back laughter behind a gloved hand.

“Excuse me, Inkwell would be far less angry if you didn’t leave my Knight behind. I’m fine helping you out if you need it, but please bring my brother over here too.” He requested. King Dice got the feeling the child was only being nice because he didn’t feel threatened. Outside, Inkwell hissed wrathfully. The second Devil pulled up another portal, Hell itself slung a rock, nailing him in the head. If King Dice had been able to understand supernatural land masses he’d hear Hell cursing Devil out for ruining its chances with Inkwell. Lady Inkwell understood though, and he sucked in a breath, desperate to not let out the giggles fighting to escape.

Devil dutifully did as requested, only slightly mollified by the pleased—albeit still miffed—nod he got from King Dice. He got the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to be getting a good night kiss. To say the Knight was annoyed was beyond an understatement. It would be an insult to say he was just annoyed.

“I’m going to stab you.” Cuphead said, and he did. He stabbed the Lord of Hell in the pelvis with a dagger.  As Devil laid on the ground, wheezing in pain, he knew he’d get no ‘feel better’ kiss. He still had a chance of getting a ‘thank you’ kiss though, so not all was lost. Outside, Inkwell gave one last brush of anger across the room.

“You mentioned needing help raising the dead?” Lady Mugs spoke up over Devils whining. He could heal the demon, the fact that he didn’t spoke volumes.

“It’s simply for a class, I don’t think someone of your caliber really needs—”

“Oh you’re a witch in training! How wonderful!” Lady cheered, his brother was content to return to his side. “I’ve run into a few remains left over from the outings… Ah, probably not… I’d be more than glad to help out, do you have something dead nearby?” The last bit was said hastily, and King Dice was reminded that this Lady was still quite young. The last one he’d run into had been nearing her seventies, she was spry though, very spry for her age. Still, if the Lady was willing to help, and he wasn’t at risk of being stabbed by proxy of knowing the lovable moron clutching his pant leg, he was all too willing to take the help.

“You mean besides that guys hopes of getting a kiss tonight?” His roommate joked, Devil hissed at him, King Dice sighed.

\---0---0---0---

The school graveyard was suspiciously devoid of the usual number of witches. There were far less students trying their luck at resurrecting the dead. He spotted a few at the joke gravesite for students lost sleep, he pitied those students. He watched Lady pick out a small batch of graves, then point to one and look at him.

“I want to see what you do first.” He explained. King Dice figured that was fair, so he went through the motions, but instead of reviving anything he healed Devil’s hip. Devil sheepishly stepped a bit further back. The Lady nodded, pleased with what he’d seen.

“Necromancy is just healing magic taken to extremes.” He explained while the air around them stilled. The Knight shifted his stance a bit, focus entirely on their surroundings. “We’re trying to talk the soul into returning to their old body for a brief amount of time.” Green and yellow lighting arced through the air. King Dice watched, eyes wide at the sheer area of effect the Lady had. Neither he nor Devil had expected the child to be able—or even just—raise more than a few graves around him. Instead, a good half of the graveyard was making sound.

“Uh, Mugs, I think you did more than raise a few skeletons.” The Knight pointed his brother and King Dice’s attention to Devil. Devil, whose fur had turned opalescent, horns a brilliant gold, and eyes a warm violet.

“Oh damn.” King Dice muttered, eyebrows arched high. Devil screamed, the clouds above them screamed, Inkwell shook with the screams of Hell below it, one of the trapped corpses screamed because everyone else was. Devil’s scream seemed to start thinning out, King Dice could see the gears turning in his head. There was a holy aura around Devil, so holy in fact, Jerry –the class cheat— burst into flame. Devil continued screaming even as grand iridescent wings burst from his back. He screamed all the way up to the clouds. He screamed even as they heard other screaming join his, except the other screaming sounded indignantly agonized. They watched what had to be Saint Peter, head stuffed into his toga, sail away, towards the sun.

They heard a few more shouts, a few:

“Who the fuck fixed him?!”

“He’s back!”

“Don’t you dare-“

Then just a lot of screaming.

Devil came back down right as his fur was starting to regain its black coloration. He continued screaming until everything was back to normal. The entire graveyard was silent. Far above them, the sun coughed up a piece of toga.

“Well the great news is I finally got to shove that smarmy bitch Michael in Raphael’s halo so I’m feeling pretty spiffy!” Devil spoke in the ensuing silence. Lady Mugs rested his chin on his palm and turned to his brother.

“Well Cuphead, if I wasn’t going to hell, I’m fairly certain I am now.”

“You say that like I won’t be joining you. I’m insulted you think I wouldn’t cap an angel in the knees to be sure I didn’t abandon you. Bro’s before halo’s, Mugs.”

\---0---0---0---

It took a while, but they managed to get back on track. Devil stepped _far_ away for the rest of the demonstrations Mugs gave King Dice. Within two hours King Dice had managed to revive a bird Devil had hunted for King Dice to practice on. He had just about hugged the child when the bird chirped a cute tune despite its tiny head lolling to one side. The three corpses that had joined the rest of them above ground cheered, the ground below joined in. It wasn’t Inkwell cheering, just corpses still in their coffins, too lazy to see what the fuss was about.

Instead he gave the two a single pink die each, telling them to try rolling it. The lady got a five, the Knight got a four. Though confused, he assured them that was a good thing.

“You’re in for some good luck. I’m in for a passing grade.” He told them. Lady Mugs and Sir Cuphead stared between the pink remains of the dice and him, heads tilted as if listening to something only they could hear. After a moment, he perked up.

“Oh! Lady Luck!” Mugs cheered. Devil threw his hands in the air, shouting some unintelligible curses.

“Using sentient dirt is cheating!” He shouted at the brothers, though it sounded more huffy than truly angry. Cuphead snickered, Inkwell rumbled.

\---0---0---0---

As an added bonus, since Lady Mugs had spent just a bit more time with him until he finally brought back one of the more recently dead. Barely passing wasn’t good enough according to him, he wanted King Dice to pass with flying colors.

“If you can bring back a bird, you can bring back a person. If we’d had to find a fish I’d have asked Inkwell to bring us a shark for the next step up.” He explained, a glint of pride in his eye. King Dice in return taught the kid sleight of hand. While teaching him, the Lady had remarked about how skills like it would have been great to know a day ago. King Dice saw no harm in teaching the child a few tricks. Meanwhile Devil had decided to dig around the bowels of Hell to find something to amuse himself with, and came back with a brand-new brigandine Hell had demanded he give to the Knight as a way of trying to get Inkwell’s forgiveness. Devil muttered something about losers in love.

“Dear, did you forget I’m still upset with the fact that you kidnapped the Lady? You’ve yet to earn any kisses back.” King Dice said, voice light, expression coy. Devil locked in place, right in the middle of kicking a rock.

“No good night kiss?” He whispered in horror.

“No.”

“Kid,” Devil grabbed Lady Mugs by the shoulders. “You’re a Lady too, how do you get Ladies to forgive _innocent mistakes?”_ He hissed the last part toward King Dice.

“My brother usually gets me ice cream if I’m really upset with him.” Was all he managed to say before Devil was scampering off screaming something about being back soon.

“Mugs, he’s going to terrify a shopkeeper. You just sent the literal Devil to get ice cream from some poor store owner.” Lady Mugs just responded with an innocent expression and a shrug. King Dice liked this Lady. Considering he wasn’t also dead, he figured he could forgive Devil too. The ice cream would just be a sweet bonus, he’d never say no to ice cream.

\---0---0---0---

The boys left before Devil returned, thought King Dice sort of wished they hadn’t. Devil brought back an entire five-gallon tub of ice cream. The hopeful gaze he’d given King Dice had been _just_ enough to keep King Dice from being too upset. He had no idea how he’d get through five gallons of the sweet treat, or how he’d get it to fit in the refrigerator. Devil still got a nice ‘thank you’ kiss for his efforts, even if King Dice wasn’t sure how Devil had gotten the ice cream in the first place. He’d never seen the man buy anything. He dearly hoped he wasn’t going to have an angry store keeper demanding he pay for stolen goods.

On his way back to the apartment, he ran into a downtrodden Sally. He’d offered her some of the ice cream once they got back into the building. She took him up on it, apparently just upset enough to not care about fitting into her next costume.

“I searched _all over_ for him!” She sobbed into her bowl, weakly chewing on the spoon. “I ran into Lady Inkwell of all people though. He and Sir Cuphead said they’d try looking for him.” She took another bite of the ice cream, ignoring the deer-in-headlights look everyone had on their face. “Do I really look so bad that even the Lady and Knight of Inkwell feel a need to help?” She looked up, showing them her tear and makeup stained cheeks, her flushed face, and her runny nose. King Dices roommate awkwardly offered her a tissue for an answer.

“Well, ah, those two will probably have a better chance of looking for him?” The roommate tried, reaching for anything they could think of to keep her from outright sobbing again. She absentmindedly nodded, took another bite of ice cream, then burst out wailing once more. King Dice wished he’d given the brothers a kiss on the cheek for luck instead. At the rate she was blowing through his tissues and the reserve tissues _and_ the emergency tissues, he’d have to go out and get a whole new set. The most he could do now was hope they found the guy, or she got distracted by a new play idea. Whichever would save his tissues faster, he’d take. Those things were a bitch to cast spells for extra comfort on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this thing has over 70,000 words. I thought I'd be near done by this point, boy did I estimate wrong.   
> Yes, Lady did indeed revive the long dead holiness in Devil. Y'all have no idea how torn I was between describing him as a perfectly muscled Adonis and the one I ultimately went with. This isn't my Human AU though, so... pretty fur won.
> 
> What was Hell shouting at Devil while lobbing a rock at him? Something to the effect of "You raging bag of unholy dicks! First you gotta fuck up your chances with your lover, then you gotta ruin my chances with the only other landmass that's sentient?! I hope he dumps you!"
> 
> Inkwell was indeed telling the two that they'd gotten a gift from lady luck. It only remembers who King Dice is because beings like him are easy to remember, even for an easily forgetful Inkwell


	21. Dancing scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brother's are on the lookout for a man by request of an all to familiar blonde woman. Maybe with the added luck, they'll find her future husband.

“Okay, so he had brown hair, a thick but well-tended mustache, he was tall, and he wore the latest fashion… Cuphead? What’s the latest fashion?”

“I have no clue, I _do_ know you described almost every man we’ve passed thus far in the city.”

“She said he danced, so he has to be fit, not that guy then.”

“Mugs, why did you agree to this?”

“She was crying, she lives in Inkwell, what do you _think_ my reasoning was?”

The boys made their way through the city at a pace just above leisurely. Mugs was hoping that they’d at least get word of a really good dancer by just listening to passing conversations. Cuphead thought they were on a wild goose chase. Mugs point stood stronger than Cuphead’s desire to do something that would better serve their time. Thus, he followed along, listening to the stray conversations. At some point he heard about a shopkeeper nearly losing their soul over coffee fudge ice cream. Both brothers power walked past every single ice cream shop they came across. Not even the promise of pineapple whip could sway the sweet toothed Lady.

This city was far larger than the one more inland. The main roads were smooth but the sidewalks weren’t paved at all. So, as if trying to flaunt its children, everywhere they walked, lush, thick grass grew. Behind the Lady, flowers sprouted up in a colorful show of identity. The brothers, raised on Inkwell’s antics, didn’t even bother to notice. It even meant it was easier to look for that woman’s man. People would pause at the odd sight, realize who they were, and continue on. A far cry from the previous city, though neither brother could complain.

Used to walking for insane distances—the thing most joked about when it came to the Lady and Knight was that the pair almost always had insanely fit bodies due to all the walking they did—they had no trouble strolling around even as the sun began to set. As the city grew bright once more with the artificial neon glow of enticing night shops, the brothers decided if the man was a dancer, he’d probably be in one of the nightclubs. Cuphead had the suspicion that Mugs just wanted to go see people dance. Much like many in Inkwell, Mugs was fascinated with the new dances migrating across their borders and integrating with the old dances.

Cuphead had little room to tease, he was much the same when it came to any new shiny thing. That or new sword styles brought over by teachers looking for a far more peaceful—albeit creepy, sometimes oversaturated with dead things—life. Mugs got the attention of the nearest passerby, politely asked them where the most popular nightclub was, and was promptly cooed at.

“Oh honey, you look far too young to go into any of them, I doubt they’d let you through, Lady or not.” The next breeze that slipped through the streets was full of malice, so it was no surprise when the woman backpedaled faster than anyone Cuphead had ever seen, gave them a name and directions, then fled. Inkwell, out of sight of the brothers, waited for the woman to try entering a building before barricading the door with a tree. The woman would spend ten minutes apologizing out in the street to the tree. People around only wondered what she’d said to anger Inkwell. Some were surprised Inkwell’s space program wasn’t getting a new ‘volunteer’.

\---0---0---0---

“Look, maybe if we play it like we’re just regular folks we can slip under the bouncer?” Cuphead mused, staring at the bright sign hanging above the nightclub. Earlier, he’d joked that as long as the door guard wasn’t porcelain, they might be able to use the fact that it was near impossible to tell the actual age of a porcelain being. Of course, right in front of the door, looking like he was amassing all known protein in the world, beefed up beyond imagination, was a porcelain dish. The intricate designs on the teapot’s body stood out under the vivid blue lighting, showing his age. The brothers, lily-white, squeaky clean of any markings, got that sinking feeling.

Just because they were the diplomat/defender of Inkwell, didn’t mean they could just do whatever they wanted. The last few pairs that tried lording their titles over the land were hated and barely lasted twenty years. Paltry when compared to some of the others who lasted well into their hundreds. Chalice, had she not died, likely would have lasted three centuries easy. So, even if they wanted to, there was little they could do to get around the teapot.

“Elder Kettle needs to meet this guy, I bet they’d be friends.” Cuphead pushed a rock into the dirt with his boot, reaching for a way to get in. Mugs, however, was staring at the man’s many markings.

This time, it was only Cuphead that got that sinking feeling.

“Inkwell,” Mugs turned to face the nearest tree, the one they were currently standing next to. “You see the things I’m picturing? I need you to bring those to us as fast as you can…” He looked oddly determined, looking between his brother and the tree. “Those exact colors too, I’ll need them if we want to be authentic. Cuphead, come on, I need to find a store with a mirror.”

Cuphead barely had time to open his mouth before he was being hastily dragged away by a dangerously eager Mugs.

\---0---0---0---

The owner of the salon was more than glad to keep his store open for the Lady to use. He told them he’d head back an hour later, after he had dinner, to close the store once they were done. Mugs thanked the man with the sweetest, brightest smile he could manage, nearly blinding the poor shop keep. He staggered off towards home, leaving the brothers full access to whatever they needed. Mugs got Inkwell to drag up a nice garnet as thanks. The second he got the items he’d requested earlier, his smile twisted into something even Devil would be scared of.

Cuphead managed but one strangled wheeze before he was accosted by his Lady.

\---0---0---0---

“ _Finally,_ all those years of painting class _becomes useful._ ”

“Mugs please, at least let me move.”

“You so much as twitch and you lose the privilege of keeping your _head_ _on.”_

“This is because I made fun of you after all those—you better not be putting something—Cold!”

“ _Move one more time Cuphead, and I’ll test how strict those ‘no hurting the knight’ rules really are.”_

Outside, Inkwell rumbled with pleasant laughter.

\---0---0---0---

Cuphead stared at the newly painted gold vines curling intricately around his handle, following it to the ruby red gladiolus flowers. It looked gorgeous, if he was being honest. His brother really _hadn’t_ gone through years of learning various hobbies, including painting. The flowers shone merrily against his porcelain, trickling down like raining fire. He’d never admit he liked it, however, while examining it, and the leaves Mugs had painted onto his hands after stealing his gloves and gauntlets, he realized something.

“Are we sure we’re even going to find this guy? I mean, what are the odds we find a man that we’ve never seen before?”

“I’m feeling lucky.” Mugs snarked, making a mental note to rub it in Cuphead’s face if they _did_ find the man at that club. Cuphead, as if hearing the internal note, squinted at his brother. Before he could snark back, his reflection in the mirror caught his attention.

“Uh, Mugs? I’m not exactly subtle with the armor. I mean, a fully armored guy isn’t exactly common. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna know it’s us just by me alone. That’s _if_ he doesn’t recognize us because, you know, the entire continent got to see our baby pictures.”

“Yes, but I’m banking on Inkwell being the amazing land it is and distracting the guy _on top of_ our new marks. These will keep anyone inside that knows about porcelain getting angry or suspicious. But,” Mugs set the brush down, leaving the gold-lined camellia half filled with a soft blue-violet color. “You have a point about the clothing, I mean, I’d just need a different gown, you though? I’m not… uh…”

“Brother. I’m going to look down, and I’m going to see my new, oddly acquired brigandine. I’m not going to—I don’t see it.”

“That was nifty! Gosh! We’ll have to thank Mr. Devil next time we see him!”

“I’m wearing a vest, and not the armored kind. I’m not feeling thankful right now.”

“ _Cuphead,_ it’s useful, and it’s what’s going to help us get into that nightclub _faster._ Imagine how happy that woman will be if we manage to find her “future husband, correction, future stagehand, then future husband, oh please, oh please try to find him.”” Mugs pitched his voice to sound far more feminine, clutching his hands to his chest and batting his tear lined lashes at a very unimpressed Cuphead.

The Knight tossed his hands into the air, feeling awkward in the black shirt, red vest, and black pants that now covered his body. He had no idea how the armor vanished or where his swords went, but the chains usually holding the swords were turned into a single one holding a pocket watch he’d never seen before. Part of him wanted to ask for his armor back, but Mugs had a point, and he knew his brother would be sad unless they at least _tried_ one of the nightclubs. Biting back his desire to just call it a day, he remained quiet. He got up while Mugs was finishing up on his arms, tracing delicate swirling lace patterns to pull in a dress Inkwell had seen plenty of women wearing during the moon-lit hours.

The skirt flared out even with Cuphead just moving it from one arm to the other so he could close the door. He almost hoped they _would_ find the guy with all the effort they were putting into getting into one club.

\---0---0---0---

By the time Mugs was done, the storekeeper had returned, gaped at the two with a disbelieving stare for a bit, then praised the paint work.

“Well you sure cleaned your Knight up real nice! I almost didn’t recognize either of you!” The cheery bird stated, examining the intricate designs on both brothers.

“Thank you! For the compliment and for letting us use your store, do you mind if I leave the paint here?” He maintained his sugar sweet expression, easily talking the owner into keeping the paints. The poor man just about turned red under his feathers. Cuphead was torn between sympathizing with the man and putting his brother up a bit higher on his ‘fear’ meter.

Inkwell just cooed.

\---0---0---0---

“Right, we got high numbers on the lucky roll, and we’re wearing entirely different clothes. If this doesn’t work…”

“Mugs, please don’t ask Inkwell to ‘silence’ anyone, I knew letting you watch that movie with the gangsters was dangerous.”

“Inkwell you snitch!”

\---0---0---0---

As it turned out, the man guarding the door was in the middle of knocking a drunkard out via casual strangulation. This gave the brothers the opportunity to just slip by. The live band was playing a lighthearted tune, filling the room merrily. People varied between dancing on the floor to the left and drinking at the tables towards the right. The brothers, trying to do what they thought was normally done, sat down at the first empty table they saw.

Unsure of just how to begin, Cuphead chose to watch the diners while Mugs stared wistfully at the dance floor. The brothers simply observed their surroundings, taking in the festive, yet oddly relaxing atmosphere. Cuphead found himself not wanting to leave just five minutes into their casual start. There was something about how much energy filled the room from the exuberant dancers and the spirited diners. At some point, he didn’t recall when, a glass of water found its way into his hand. His brother seemed to be fully invested with the many bodies on the dance floor. Cuphead took a sip, glancing at the dancers, his mind seemed oddly hazy, but he figured it was just due to the vastly different environment.

“That guy.” Mugs suddenly said, barely heard by Cuphead over the sound of the band. Cuphead hummed in response, even though a part of him knew Mugs likely wouldn’t be able to hear that response. Mugs didn’t notice though, too focused on one dancer in particular. The man had thick brown hair, a plush, well-trimmed mustache, he was tall, and he danced _well._ Cuphead took another sip of water, watching the man spin a woman so fast her skirt flared out in an impressive display of silks.

He arched his eyebrows, impressed with how the man seemed to move between one partner and the next, as if taking more thrill in dancing with as many as he could rather than one. The man turned to face their table, as if sensing their gaze. Cuphead, had he not felt so fuzzy in the head, would have wondered why the man focused on them considering plenty of others were watching him as well. He had to be the best dancer in the joint.

“What is it with him? It’s like everything is moving slower around him.” Mugs mused, not even slightly bothered by the fact that the man was focused on their table now.

Between one slow blink and the next, the man was at their table, offering his hand out to Mugs. The next thing Cuphead knew, his brother was being whisked away by the man. The Knight part of him bristled with the knowledge of a stranger being so close to his defenseless brother. The rest of him shrugged, he didn’t see the harm in letting the man get a dance in. Mugs knew how to do a few dances thanks to their mother. He’d be able to hold his own at least a little.

\---0---0---0---

“You’re doing something to the crowd.” Mugs stated rather bluntly, allowing the man to pull him into a dance he _knew_ he’d never learned. The man arched an eyebrow, but nodded enthusiastically.

“Why yes indeed! Interesting that you aren’t as affected, yet I can still impart my knowledge to you.” The man replied, his voice jolly. Mugs noticed, as he spun, the people the man had danced with looked far more winded than anyone else. One of the women were flat out unconscious on their husbands’ shoulder.

“I’m generally a bit more immune to things that affect my mind. It’s difficult to—oh! To trick someone linked up to Inkwell the way I am. Are you affecting my brother too? Normally he’d be dancing with a fish or something to have an excuse to stay near me.” Mugs tilted his head towards his brother after he was pulled up from the dip so low his handle tapped against the floor.

“I find it far easier to eat when the territorial types are sedated. Sure, you could say that’s a waste of the energy I take from people, but I find it worth it. Three black eyes are more than enough, thank you very much.” The man, as if reading that part of Mugs mind that had suggested having fun while they could, twisted so Mugs shoulders rolled across his own, the porcelain Lady swinging through the air gracefully.

“They have many names for that move, any others you’d like to try? We’ve got plenty of time until I have to move onto the next one. I don’t like draining people to death after all.” The man gave Mugs a cheeky grin, Mugs responded with a saccharine smile.

“Try to be careful, if you pull too much from me, Inkwell will hit the panic switch and you’ll have a very angry Knight after you, soothing mental manipulation or no.” He let the man pull him in close for a quickstep.

“Here’s hoping I don’t then! I at least want a chance to see that wonderful gal again before dying. Though, I’m embarrassed to say I was so enchanted with her enthusiasm I never got a chance to even ask her name.” He stared at something no one else would see, switching back to the spinning Lindy hop, following along to the tunes the band put out.

Mentally screaming with joy, mixed with a toss of ‘I told you so’ that he would reserve for when Cuphead wasn’t caught in the same daze as everyone else. The one that only seemed to be growing stronger. He guessed having access to the potent magic Inkwell supplied him was doing the man a world of wonders.

“If you don’t mind, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a creature that dances victims to sleep.” He wanted to hold off on jumping too far to conclusions, for all he knew, this guy was looking for a different woman. That and a small part of him really wanted to dance a little bit longer, he _really_ loved dancing.

“I’m a variant of the vampire I suppose you could say, a…dance-pire? I guess, or an incubus of a different sort. I feed off of any old energy gained from joy. And wouldn’t you know it, really good dancing is a surefire way to get people smiling.” The man explained, artfully lifting Mugs into the air once more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run into a vampire of any kind before. I can’t imagine why.” Mugs said, pointedly taking one hand away to brush the empty space between his collar and his head where a neck would be. The man snorted, trying to bury his laugh in his shoulder.

“I’ve no idea, they’re missing out that’s for sure! You aren’t even winded, and we’ve done three dances!” He briefly glanced over at the tables. “Your brother is getting suspicious though, so I’m not sure how much longer I can be your dance partner.”

“That woman you’re looking for, what does she look like?” Mugs brought the conversation back to where he needed it to be, satisfied with the new knowledge. He watched as more people suddenly stood up, entranced by the dancing, joining the building crowd of dancers.

“Well you see, she had the most wonderful smile. She had blonde, curly hair, styled oddly, but _oh_ did it suit her lovely face. She had mentioned something about theater, but no matter how many plays I go to I can’t seem to run into her. I’m thinking about giving up at this point.”

“I’m looking for a man as per a woman’s request. She said he had brown hair and a nice mustache. He was tall, he danced better than anyone she knew. She had blonde, curly hair, and said she had been looking for him in every place that had dancing. Do you—” Mugs squeaked, not expecting the slowly deflating man to perk up, squeezing his hand almost painfully.

“Do you know where she is? Please, she was so wonderful, I… I just want to dance with her again. I’d love to see her in her theater element, _please._ ” He sounded desperate, but not to the point where Mugs suddenly feared for his life.

“I _do_ know how to find her, but we’ll—” One blink, Mugs was surrounded by dancers, catching flashes of his brother hastily standing up and making for the dance floor. The next, he was outside, being pulled along by the man. He _really_ wished he had the ability to teleport. It was just unfair that he didn’t have such a helpful ability. Inkwell, torn between building wrath that someone was stealing its’ Lady into the night and surprise at the sudden movement, started to agree with Mugs. It thought though, that the Knight would benefit more from the ability. Currently, its’ Knight was scaring anyone that got between him and the door. The bouncer didn’t even bother doing anything more than giving the seething Knight a quick glance as the far smaller porcelain cup stormed by.

“I was _going_ to say we needed to wait for my brother so we could head off and he would be less likely to stab you, or kick you in the shin… but it’s a bit late for that.” Mugs intoned, trying to figure out where they were in the city. Inkwell helpfully gave him a ping in the direction of the woman they’d talked to.

“Sir, you’re going in the wrong way, we need to go left and head out of the city. She was heading towards the—”

Now they were far closer, but Mugs felt light-headed. The man gave him an apologetic smile, but looked around, as if he’d suddenly spot her in the streetlight. Mugs asked Inkwell to get Cuphead to follow him, maybe try soothing his brother a bit, as this man was much like a lively puppy. He pulled the man in the direction that Inkwell was telling him to go, following the string of marked soul magic. If anyone asked how he knew where to find people, he’d say it was a mix of Inkwell’s ability to track anything on its’ soil, and Mugs great memory.

He pulled the man along, listening to the man gush about the woman. He might have found it sweet had he not been so focused on getting the man to the woman so he could sleep. He swore the next person that drained his magic or energy was getting punched in the gut as hard as he could manage, dainty wrists be damned.

\---0---0---0---

It took him just enough time to find the building for Cuphead to reach the outskirts of the city, following his brothers trail doggedly. Mugs stopped to ask a woman who looked three steps from murdering the pigeon in her hands if she knew anything about an energetic blonde woman. The witch in training gave him a tired stare, mumbled off a door number, something about noisy neighbors, then began hissing all the astoundingly vile things she was going to do to the pigeon if it didn’t stop pecking at her window.

The pigeon squawked.

\---0---0---0---

At that point it was Mugs being dragged behind the man once the guy had gotten ahold of a map. Mugs had hoped he’d be able to wait outside for his brother, but that was a lost hope. The man hastily scaled the stairs, picking Mugs up and tossing him over his shoulder when Mugs was deemed ‘not fast enough’. If this wasn’t the guy, Mugs was going to _sob._

“Oh, I’m so excited I could kiss you.” The man, shaking with excitement, spared Mugs a glance as he counted the floors they passed.

“Please save the excited kiss for the lady, I’m certain she’d appreciate it more.”

\---0---0---0---

No one wanted to talk about what had happened to the mugger who picked Cuphead as their target. No one who witnessed it ever feared for their Lady’s safety after that moment. Not a one so much as uttered a squeak of sound when the garbage crew found the man half buried, eating a shoe the next day.

\---0---0---0---

It was the right woman. Mugs had barely managed to squirm his way out of the line of fire. The woman dragged him right back into it. She, Sally Stageplay, just about broke him in half from how hard she hugged him, gushing out thanks after thanks. She set him down just long enough to pull the man into a low dip, sharing a brilliant smile with the man. Behind her, King Dice edged his way out, like a convict aiming for freedom. He was joined by the roommate.

“Lady?”

“Hi Mr. King Dice, sorry if—”

“This is wonderful! Oh I could kiss you!” Sally grabbed his hands once more, crying tears of utter joy.

“I think you should kiss him instead, it would be much more appreciated I bet.”

“How right you are!” She bodily lifted him, handing him over to Devil, who’d been watching the drama with popcorn in hand. Free of obstacles, she did just as she said, planting a kiss on the equally excited man. Right as their lips locked, Cuphead slammed the door to the stairway open. His chest heaved, his legs shook, but the murderous glare he leveled on the scene was _steady_.

Devil, flashing back to being stabbed in the pelvis, grew an extra arm just to point at the man growing more and more pale.

“He did it.”

Cuphead, without uttering a word, stormed over, and kicked the man in the shin.

“Oh honey,” Sally put one hand to her chin, resting her head on it, “We’ll work on your impulse control.” She sounded more upset that she would have to pause her plans to put him in her plays for a while more than anything else. The man just whimpered. King Dice thought he saw a dent in the man’s leg, but, much like Sally, he wasn’t all that upset about it. A dented shin was far better than what some of the previous Knights would have done to the guy.

Mugs squirmed to get out of Devil’s grip, reaching for his brother at the same time. Devil, in response, just dropped him. Cuphead was close enough to catch him just fine, but the deeply unimpressed sigh from King Dice’s position told Devil he’d messed up, even if it was a little.

Inkwell grumbled.

Hell threw another rock at Devil, though it was smaller, the impact left a bruise all the same.

Mugs would have taken the chance to thank Devil as he said he would, but the drain the man had done left him so tired, that before he could do more than shift a bit in Cuphead’s grip, he fell asleep.

“First, you make me run halfway across the city…Then, you hog his magic _while dragging him? Present the other shin.”_ Cuphead, with all the wrath of a young teen dwarfed by everyone else in the room, hissed at the man, tightening his grip on Mugs. Upon realizing there was no way he’d get proper drawback with his brother in his arms, he scowled.

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“Well I’d sooner consider _myself_   lucky, one shin down and out is easily worked around, I’ve got a few scripts for reverse sleeping beauty. Two? I’m not so certain… Thanks King!” Sally mused, running her fingers through the man’s hair.

“I had nothing to do with this. I couldn’t care less if he got another kick to the shin.”

“How come he got a kick in the shin but I got stabbed?”

“He stole my brother halfway across the city, not halfway across the coast.”

“Why don’t you two stay at our apartment until Lady Inkwell wakes back up? I’m sure it can’t be _that_ comfortable carrying him.” The roommate offered, hoping a change of subject would give them the chance to make like the Lady and snooze. Cuphead, tired from having to full out sprint across town after having to clear his head with no Mugs to expedite the process, agreed. Besides, he would have just found a nearby tree to lean against had he not found a bed anyway. King Dice didn’t care either way, he was just glad he didn’t have to restock his tissue supply as much as he had feared. Talking her into going to her own apartment had been his best idea of the day.

\---0---0---0---

“Mugs, Brother, wake up.”

“What?”

“We gotta get this paint off.”

“Oh… I _knew_ I forgot something.”

“What?”

“Paint thinner.”

“…. Hey Devil? When I inevitably go to Hell, can I be put away from my brother?”

“I make no promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know if dancepires actually exist. Yes, I did make Sally's husband something unnatural. That move mentioned, where mugs is rolled over Sally's husbands back shoulder to shoulder is called around the world as far as I can remember. It has a bunch of different names though, if you watch any lindy hop competitions on youtube you'll probably see it used.  
>  I've got plans in the works to put the boys up against various actual creatures. I've always said Inkwell attracts all kinds but thus far I haven't been able to fit the myths of our world in. My excuse for the future side set to this story is those creatures were drawn too, thus, fall under inked status, thus, would exist in the world full of toons. This is also how I plan on explaining it when Cuphead and Bendy eventually interact in a drabble. I highly doubt anyone here wants to see the Lady and Knight interact with Bendy.   
> Remember when I said not every boss would show up in this story, I'll specify, it's werner that isn't showing up unless I get some inspiration on how to work that guy. Something about him kills my inspiration.  
> The next chapter will be up shortly, so I'll see you lot then.


	22. Familiar Dates and Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's rude to interrupt a date.

The boys left early, Mugs only stayed long enough to thank Devil, and ask him to thank Hell for the armor given to his brother. Devil heard Hell coo. The sheer amount of preening Inkwell did was enough to wake anyone in the general vicinity up. In return for the thanks, Hell gifted Mugs a ribbon-like bracelet much like the charm Cuphead wore around his handle. It even conformed to fit his handle like the other did. Just what it _did_ do, the boys figured they’d have to find out like they did for the armor. Sure, it was mostly to cozy up to Inkwell in a roundabout way, but part of it was to thank him for putting up with Devil’s antics.

They left, saying they’d be in the city for a little longer in case anyone else in the city needed help. With another thanks for letting them stay the night, the two were gone, which meant Devil could enact his plan for the day.

He’d checked King Dice’s schedule, he knew the man had nothing to do today, which meant a full day dedicated to a date. He had retrimmed his nails, shined his horns, he had even gone through an extra special bath so his fur smelled less like hellfire and more like cinnamon. He saw nothing wrong with hellfire smells, but _apparently_ it could be _offensive_ if inhaled too often by people not dead. He _still_ refused to apologize to that family.

Slithering into King Dice’s room, much to the horror of the roommate who was busy getting coffee, he scampered over to the bed. Though the room was dark, with only a sliver of sunlight making it through the curtains, Devil could see just fine. Placed primly on the pillow, his lover’s head rested. King Dice had once told him that while he didn’t inherently _need_ sleep, he liked it well enough to relax every once in a while. This was also the first time Devil was seeing King Dice without his makeup. It was surprisingly hard to find his face, the only thing he could go off of were the thick light lavender lashes casting the faintest shadow on his smooth cheeks. His lips were a pale whitish lavender as well, and those were Devil’s target.

Leaning down, he draped himself across the bed until he was face to face with his lover. King Dice peacefully snoozed on. Devil’s tail began to wag with excitement. Deciding that hesitation was for weenies, he leaned in for his first good morning kiss.

\---0---0---0---

“What we learn.” The roommate stated, standing over the shaking cat sized form at their feet in the kitchen.

“My man can defend himself, and is not a morning person.” Devil replied meekly, peeking over at the door he’d been sent through earlier.

“I’m sorry to say I know of only one thing that has reached the stage where they are allowed near a sleeping King Dice, and that’s his familiar.”

“The hell is a familiar?”

“You know how the Lady has the Knight and both have Inkwell? It’s sort of like that. A creature that augments your power while giving you simple companionship. Mine is a lazy fucker that stays in my room.”

“The snake?”

“Yeah, that bastard knows how to get out of his fucking cage. But noooo, I gotta drag out the entire fucking cage if I want to have a little help with my spells. Scaly asshole. Anyway, ask King after he’s all dolled up and in a better mood.”

“He has no physical arms.”

“I know.”

“How does he throw so precisely?”

“I don’t know.”

\---0---0---0---

“What’s your familiar?” Devil jumped King Dice as soon as the man left his room. King Dice screeched, toppling under the full weight of the shape-shifting ruler of hell. After some thrashing around, King Dice figured there’d be no way to do more than appease Devil’s curiosity. He’d given far too much bad luck recently, any more and he risked getting predictable.

“You’ll have to let me sit up if you want to see him.” King Dice remarked, squirming to free at least one arm. Devil obeyed, shifting so King Dice was upright. King Dice wrapped his arms around Devil’s neck, playing with the hair on the back of the beast’s head. He moved his head closer until all Devil could see was King Dice’s eyes. There was a coy gleam in his gaze, keeping Devil entranced up until he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Turning the barest amount, a playing card stared at him, perched on King Dice’s sleeve. Catching another flash of movement, he turned once more, this time to see King Dice lean back, four more cards between the fingers of his other hand.

King Dice flicked his wrist, the cards vanished from sight. He gave Devil a playful wink, running his tongue along his pearly teeth. As the tongue moved, a card appeared between his teeth, pressed against the enamel, the tiny eyes on the card blinking curiously at him. Devil, enraptured, followed the motion. He almost didn’t notice the odd weight pressed against his own tongue until it shifted. He went to reach up to pull whatever was in his mouth out, but King Dice beat him to it. Pressing his lips to Devil’s and coming back with two more cards.

King Dice let the two cards drop into the empty void of his collar, shifting his head back so they could fall neatly in. More and more cards popped out of various places, startling Devil more often than not. Finally, after around twelve, King Dice held his hand back out, palm up. He twisted his wrist, flipping his hand palm down, when he presented his palm once more, a full deck sat on his hand.

“This, is Chance. No, that’s not just a name, this is a physical manifestation of chance, like I’m Lady Luck.” King Dice spoke, the ace of hearts popped out from the middle of the deck so it could stand properly and look at Devil. “He’s how I stay in contact with the other form of Chance, we need to communicate every now and again to tag team. Sometimes it’s not enough for us to crush someone’s spirit with horrendous luck or missed chances. Sometimes we have to drive their hopes so far into the ground it never sees the light of day.” King Dice let the cards crawl up his arm so more could get a look.

“You had a chance of getting that pay raise? Not anymore, and what terrible luck! Your car has broken down, what a shame.” The roommate spoke up from the couch, sipping their precious coffee. Devil poked at one of the cards, watching it go cross-eyed to follow his finger. The cards scampered back into King Dice’s sleeves, hiding from the world once more.

“Of course, it’s the only deck in the world that I can’t manipulate in a game, beyond what you see. Any game played with them is guaranteed to be genuine.” King Dice leaned back once more, resting his palms on Devil’s knees beside his hips.

“Now, what exactly was so important you couldn’t wait for me to wake up properly?” King Dice’s expression shifted from something Devil liked seeing to something he didn’t. He was starting to learn that patient expression was less genuine than Wheezy playing poker. No one played strip poker with that man anymore.

They’d learned.

“I’m going to take you on another date!” Devil hoped the idea of a date would appease King Dice enough to sooth any ruffled feathers. By the sweet surprise overtaking King Dice’s features, he knew he’d guessed right. “Now come on, we got places to be!” Without any pause, a portal opened up under the two, and they dropped. The roommate sighed, sipping their coffee. Realizing they had the apartment to themselves, they chugged down the rest of the bitter drink. Darting over to their room, they dragged out their radio, plopped it down on the table, and settled in for some uninterrupted listening. The party hat on their hood and on their familiar was added in celebration.

\---0---0---0---

Three hours into the date where Devil took King Dice to the various sights the world had to offer, the two were resting on a seaside cliff. Devil enjoyed shape-shifting into whatever creature he spotted, usually adding a goofy aspect to keep King Dice entirely amused. King Dice found it adorable, his non-existent heart warming exponentially to the man before him. He tilted his body to give Devil a well-deserved kiss, but before he did, a glowing summoning circle carved itself into the dirt below them. King Dice barely had time to blink, much less react to the sudden shift in environment. Devil, equally surprised, shifted back to his default form.

Around them, at least thirty summoners stared in mute awe at the two.

“Hot shit we actually did it.” One of them said, voice carrying oddly in the strange room. King Dice didn’t bother paying the people any attention, instead he looked down at the circle, trying to determine just how he got caught in a circle with Devil.

“Wait there are two, which one is the lord of hell?”

“Oh well gee, Terry, between the horned goat looking demon and the fucking dice wearing makeup, what do _you_ think?”

“Right, it’s the dice, man I don’t know how I missed it.”

“Terry, there’s a reason we said you’d be the sacrifice if this didn’t work.”

“But we drew straws for that!”

“We rigged it, or…Jeffrey did.”

“Guys! Lord of Hell, right there! Could we _focus?_ ”

“Yeah…. Who was supposed to—” Devil’s tail lashed like an angry cat. Except, when his tail hit the floor, it cracked the tile. A low growl filled the sudden silence. A few of the smarter summoners stepped away from the circle, Devil focused on those ones first.

“Motherfucker I was _this_ close to getting a kiss. That date was going perfect and you interrupted it, and now you’re telling me you want shit?” By the end of his statement he was huffing out hellfire.

“Wait, a kiss? Someone was actually going to kiss _you?_ Oh, poor Tina, we’ll have to tell her he’s off the market.”

“She was never going to work up the courage anyway.”

“Guys, _I’m right here._ ” Another robed summoner hissed. King Dice almost wished they’d take off the robes, the things barely functioned beyond looking uncomfortably warm. The one that had just spoke had a beak that was twisted in an embarrassed scowl. He rested his weight on one leg, crossing his arms across his chest, content to let Devil handle it as he saw fit. Within his suit, he felt Chance perk up, fully invested in what was going on. Then again, if these people were as competent as they were chatty, they could prove to be a threat to King Dice. That was something neither of them were willing to risk. So, since Devil seemed perfectly content to handle the situation, he’d let Devil do so.

“Right, so, we’ve been researching you, beast of sin.”

“We looked into all the failed summons, discovered their mistakes, and we’re sure we’ve figured out how to keep you from killing us before we get what we want.”

“Hang on, who are _you?”_ The one with a tail poking out under their robe pointed at King Dice, careful to keep their stubby arm out of the circle. King Dice merely shifted his weight to the other hip, giving the ring of summoners only silence for an answer. Devil growled louder.

“Okay, don’t talk, we’re fairly certain some of the stuff we want will need a soul sacrifice. Rude casino reject ain’t you.” King Dice arched a single perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

“Says the dead-beats sporting ridiculous robes and no self-preservation.” One of the summoners hissed, ears going down under their hood. Devil’s ears angled downwards in return, he planted himself between where the majority of the summoners had amassed and King Dice.

“One more crack like that and I’ll strangle you.” A tall summoner growled, entirely unafraid of Devil’s returned aggression. King Dice laughed, he lifted his head from his shoulders, holding it like a waiter would hold a dish to present.

“I invite you to try, _if_ you can find a neck.” He snapped back lightly tossing his head into the air, returning it to its proper place with flair. One of the summoners in the back clapped. He believed that one was Terry. He liked Terry. Devil, fed up with the situation and wanting nothing more than to return to the date, grew until he was taller than their tallest, and broad enough that no one doubted if his goal was to snap spines, he’d do it. He tilted, like he was going to head towards the left, then darted right at the last second.

He expected whatever paltry barrier they’d put up to break like tissue paper. Instead he smashed shoulder first into a magic barrier that sent him flying back, fur smoking, skin burning. King Dice immediately returned his focus to the summoning circle. It looked like every single person in the room had poured everything they had into the containment portions of the thing. He’d be more impressed if he wasn’t also stuck in the thing. Though, he idly wondered if he’d have the same fate as Devil did if he touched the barrier.

“Wow, it worked twice! Now, if you’re done trying to scare us, Lucifer, we have some demands.”

“I thought we were supposed to say requests.”

“Not when we have the upper hand. Requests are for the those on the losing side.”

“Ah, right then. We want a few things.”

Devil just glared at them, tail continuing to lash about with rage. King Dice figured he had nothing to lose, so, sparing a glance at his lover, he got to work.

“Ah, excuse me. Before we get into demands and such, you wouldn’t mind entertaining my curiosity first, would you? Surely you’ve got all the time in the world.” King Dice’s voice was smooth as silk. He gracefully moved so he was the center of their attention.

“Oh _now_ who wants to be a chatty Kathy.” One of them snarked.

“Do forgive me, it’s just, I’ve heard only of failure when it comes to summoning beings like the Devil. I assumed this would be added to the list. You see, I myself am a witch in training. I would love to know just what components you put into this circle to make it so effective.” He stopped right before the edge of the circle. Flashing his perfect showman smile, he casually gestured to the nearest rune.

“Really? What’s a witch doing near the Devil? I mean we’re admittedly sort of stupid for trying this, but… well.”

“Would you believe I simply requested the ability to pass my exams? I’m _quite_ terrible when it comes to studying.” King Dice blushed in embarrassment, adjusting the cuffs on his jacket. One of the ones closest to the barrier snorted. A few nodded in agreement.

“I mean… If you’re bound for hell anyway, might as well go down knowing you got something useful out of the deal.”

“Eh, you’re probably going to die anyway when we kick up the meaner parts to this in case he doesn’t agree. Sure, it’s actually nice to see someone else didn’t die, not often you hear that after all.” The one who’d tried to keep the summoning on track finally agreed after a bit of thinking.

“First I want to hear how you summoned him, but don’t know what our circle has.”

“Every circle is different, isn’t it? That’s what I was taught. Besides, it’s been quite the semester, I’m sure you can imagine.” King Dice glanced purposefully at Devil, who stared back with an unreadable expression. King Dice noted what the others didn’t in that Devil’s wounds were smaller, already healing despite how viciously the circle had reacted to him. He turned back, and spun a tale even wordsmiths would be proud of. When no one was looking, an ace of clubs popped out from under his pant leg, carefully camouflaging itself using the white chalk lines. It shimmied along the floor towards Devil, stopping once it had reached his face.

Pointedly, it looked up, so, instead of watching King Dice like everyone else was doing, he looked up as well. Three chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, held up by a lone, rusty, chain. The card reached out one corner until its tiny body rested on Devil’s nose.

“ _What are the chances that chain hasn’t been looked at in a while? I’m thinking the odds aren’t in their favor.”_ A mysterious voice echoed in his head. The card moved back, giving him a cheeky little wink. It rejoined its brethren hiding within King Dice’s clothes. King Dice did a grand gesture with his hands, some of the summoners were leaning right next to the barrier. Devil was honestly impressed, though he _knew_ King Dice was lying, the man was selling it so well he caught himself leaning in during the part where his lover talked about the half dead bear during the outing.

“And well, here we are now!” King Dice finished, much to the disappointment of the summoners.

“I do believe it’s your turn?” He gave the one closest to the barrier an expectant smile. The apple nodded eagerly, skipping over to point out some of the sigils.

“Well you see, that one electrifies the barrier, Rob is great at those kinds. We just snap and they light up anything inside the circle. We’re fairly certain he won’t die to some shock therapy, so it’s the first defense.” She pointed to a few runes, her hand brushing the very edge of the circles line. Devil, choosing to wait it out, didn’t take the bait. He was barely holding back whimpers as it was. Though the outer wounds were fading, something in the circle caused his skin to burn uncomfortably.

“Those are the things that denote what is locked in here and what isn’t. See, since the deal hasn’t gone through yet, we’re allowed to go in and out and the circle won’t stop us. Unfortunately, you’re trapped in it. I’m sure sorry about it though, you seem like a real snazzy fella.” King Dice shrugged.

“Well, this sort of luck is why I don’t work in casinos.” He joked, causing a few to laugh. They continued describing all the ways the circle would enforce their word, from chains doused in every holy symbol they could find, to binding sigils that would cause agony to anything they chose. Terry decided to demonstrate, likely because he was the one that had made that portion. Though he didn’t have a body, he could almost feel the oppressive air that crushed down on the circle, sending Devil into a screaming fit. It only lasted around thirty seconds, but the whimpers lasted even after the air had eased up. King Dice swore he saw a few bright red tears slip out before Devil buried his face in his arm.

King Dice did not like Terry anymore.

“Good going Terry, now we’re going to have to wait a few minutes for him to stop twitching.” One of the summoners griped, though King Dice noticed they looked at him, as if hoping he’d take that as a cue to tell more tales.

King Dice clapped, getting their attention once more.

“This is quite the set up you’ve got here, it’s just about perfect! But,” As he spoke, he circled to the left; the summoners followed, eager to hear more from the witch in training. King Dice stopped a quarter of the way on his walk. Devil was still behind him, but this time, he didn’t follow King Dice with his eyes. “I’d like to show you all a game I like to play. I hope you don’t mind me playing one more round?” He gave them but a single pleading look, more than enough to get them to agree. Summoning a pink die, he tossed it back towards Devil. Devil, wincing, watched it clack to a stop next to him, he gave King Dice a confused look.

“Oh come now,” King Dice turned so he fully faced Devil, though his tone was mockingly that one would use when talking to children, his expression wasn’t. He gave Devil a far more genuine pleading look, his eyes a bright green. “Surely you haven’t forgotten the game I taught you? Roll to start, goodness, I swear you do this to annoy me.” Devil huffed, picking the die up. At a glance it was much the same, except this time, he noticed one of the faces wasn’t a regular pip, but a summoning circle. Playing along, he tossed it into the air, wondering how King Dice would let it land. King Dice had turned back around, shooting the curious summoners an award-winning smile.

The die landed, however before Devil could get a good look at what it landed on, it broke apart. Three things happened in quick succession, so fast, no one had time to react. First, a wash of soothing healing magic eased the twisting, burning pain keeping Devil from moving out of fear of more agony. Second, the chandelier dangling above the summoners gave out a wailing screech as the chain supporting it snapped. It landed on three of them, two other chandeliers followed, clattering to the floor, one blocking the door now. The third thing was Pirouletta stepping out of her summoning circle and delivering a kick so powerful to the lizard summoner the sound of their breaking ribcage could clearly be heard over the screaming from the other three pinned under the chandelier.

“Oh wait a moment…” King Dice raised a finger to his lips, tapping the lower one, a derisive gleam in his vivid eyes. “That’s right, _I didn’t summon him.”_ He dragged his shoe along the chalk line, from above, a lone card fluttered back into his hands, job done. Its edges looked ragged, evidence that it had been sawing at the already weakened chain. The barrier vanished right as Devil stood up, form shifting to a grotesque, unworldly creature. The summoners immediately went for the only exit, horrified to find it blocked.

“What did you do?!” The apple cried out, barely avoiding another kick from Pirouletta.

“We played a game, and he got the winning number.” King Dice replied, unmoving even as Devil threw himself at the remaining summoners. Pirouletta stayed by King Dice, quietly watching her boss rip into the crowd so quickly she had no idea who belonged to what body part. A shredded arm sailed by their spot, splattering blood on King Dice’s face. He pulled out the handkerchief in his coat pocket, and cleaned the liquid off.

“Mr. King Dice,” Pirouletta said, not bothering to raise her voice over the screams. He answered with a hum. “I would like to give you the circles for a few of my other fellow workers. I feel it would add quite a twist to your…game. And, as a thanks, for healing Boss, his pain tolerance is rather low. Just last week, he stubbed his toe and just about flooded the hall with all his crying.”

“No need to thank me, but all the same, I’ll take you up on the offer of those circles. Had you not been enough, and had he still been too weak, I’m not sure of what I’d have done beyond the chandelier. One of those had better not be that cigar though.”

“Mr. Wheezy is abrasive, but quite good at, how would you say…lighting up the joint?” She gave him a small smile while shifting him to the right so a chunk of someone’s thigh didn’t hit him in the face. She dutifully passed on the slips of paper, though King Dice didn’t seem keen on accepting Wheezy’s. Once the screaming had died down to death rattles or bubbling gurgles, she went back to Hell, leaving the two alone. King Dice wasted no time to step through the gore to reach Devil, heel loudly crunching on the remains of the apple. Devil turned, but before he could open his mouth, King Dice was examining the leftover scars slowly disappearing from the first go at the barrier.

“How annoying.” King Dice scoffed, scowling at the piece of skull staring up at them, one eye dangling from the broken socket. He was about to say something else, but as it turned out, talking through a mouthful of black fur was near impossible. Devil sniffled into his collar, clinging to King Dice like a limpet. King Dice staggered under the weight, doing everything in his power to not topple over onto bits of summoner. He somehow managed to haul them both to a clean corner before his magic gave out and he collapsed.

“Now, now, we’ve got places to be darling.” King Dice soothed, running his hands carefully down Devil’s shaking back. The man had shrunk down, returning to his regular form. “I’m sure you’d feel much better if you got cleaned up. Why don’t we head back and I’ll…pull bits of bone out for you… ugh.” He’d never get the stains out of these white gloves.

Devil sniffled, imagination running rampant of how painful it would have been had King Dice not been there. He wasn’t used to getting more than a few annoying scratches here or there. Evidently, centuries of meeting nothing that could harm him really did destroy his pain threshold. King Dice continued to hum, letting Devil settle a bit more. When the blood began to make its way through the cracks on the floor to them, King Dice tried another tactic.

“I’m not going to be able to give you any kisses if you aren’t properly cleaned. Come now, I’ve got a gift to give you as well, but we’ll need to be back in my apartment for me to give it to you.”

“Is it a kiss?” Came the whispered response.

“Among other things, yes.” King Dice, unable to guess just how much pain Devil had gone through, and figuring he needed to make up for not stopping Terry, tried to think about how long it would take to make what he wanted to give to Devil.

\---0---0---0---

“Hot shit, I thought you went out on a date?!”

“We did. Things happened.”

“Did the things come out worse than you?” A piece of intestine slipped off of Devil’s leg, splatting out onto the floor. King Dice looked at it, then he looked at his roommate. His roommate got the meaning and nodded in satisfaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I sort of lied when I said I'd see you all soon. But, I'm fairly certain no one reads this part anyway, so... oh well.   
> Yeah, having no natural predators means anything bigger than a cut or two really really hurts. Poor lord of hell, luckily for him his future wife is more than willing to give out hugs. And yes, Devil did get a few kisses as a reward. No, none of the summoners survived. Except their mistake wasn't making the circle out of something easily broken. It didn't matter if the runes got torn up, the circle was the most important part. So one or three cracked tiles meant nothing to them.   
> Also, yes, Pirouletta did give him her circle earlier, so he's simply implemented it into his die. This is my way of giving him the powers he's got in game.


	23. Going up, honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU READY FOR A 20 PAGE CHAPTER?! 11 THOUSAND WORDS OF EXCITEMENT? BOY HOWDY I SURE HOPE YOU ARE BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE GETTING.

Going back to the city was more due to it being between them and the next thing Inkwell wanted looked into. It had been hearing of someone putting down the knight, and considering the last time someone had done that, Cagney had handled it, Inkwell decided the boys needed to really set the standard. Insulting Inkwell’s special children was a surefire way to get put on its hit-list. However, it didn’t want to wipe out an entire town like it usually did. Hell had always said changing things up ensured the creatures living on it never grew ‘adjusted’ and ‘lazy’. So it was sending the two over, since, evidently, launching an entire house or two or forty into space just wasn’t sending a firm enough message. It didn’t care if someone didn’t like the Knight or Lady, as long as they kept it to themselves.

As such, the boys were on their way to try and catch up with the traveler. Cuphead was especially eager to find out who was spreading rumors that he was a poor excuse for a knight. If any word of that got back to their mother he was a dead man walking. Mugs was more interested in figuring out just who the person thought was a decent knight instead.

It was while they were going past a tall high rise on the outskirts of town that derailed their current path. A woman, seeing the two and recognizing the armor on the knight, ran up and begged the two to help her. She tearfully pointed to the fancy building, telling them her husband had gone in after their daughter had failed to come out an hour ago. She tried opening the door to follow them, only to discover the doors were locked. Fearing for her child and her spouse, she all but hauled Cuphead over. Mugs dutifully followed, content to keep his brother between him and the near hysterical moth.

A few people on the street got the woman to pause by mentioning they knew of a few, or plenty—depending on the person—that had gone into that building only to never return. With the growing number of people tossing in their two cents, the boys became even more willing to listen. Inkwell let them, they were doing their job after all.

The door to the building was just as lavish as the rest of the outside. A part of the Lady and Knight equally wondered how a fancy building could be hiding anything as worrying as something that ate or stole away the living. Upon trying the handle, the doors easily swung open, sending a burst of cool air out onto the street. The boys glanced at one another, glanced into the strangely vacant lobby, then shrugged and head in. Whatever was in there couldn’t be too dangerous, at least, perhaps, not to those that knew how to fight back.

The moment the door swung closed, the glass went opaque. The moth woman and a few others nearby gasped, trying the handle once more. Instead of swinging open, the doors merely shook, locked. Inkwell, suddenly unable to reach either of the boys, chose to do as a few of the Ladies had and give it a certain amount of time. If its’ children didn’t come out, well, Inkwell knew _exactly_ who to go after.

\---0---0---0---

If the gilded doors were any indication of luxury, the inside was twice as blatant. Just about everything was polished, pristine, and empty. There was no one behind the beautifully carved light oak desk. Not a single person could be heard walking up or down the cream-colored marble staircase. To a pair that had just come from a loud, bustling city, it was about as abrupt a change as it could get. Cuphead, went far more alert than he had been before. Something about the place wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Mugs could though.

“Brother, where did Inkwell go?” Mugs said, a bead of panic lacing his tone. Cuphead thought about how silly a question that was, until he realized he no longer had Inkwell enhancing his senses at all. Turning on their heels, the two quickly went back for the door, only to find a black void outside instead of a frazzled woman waiting for news about her husband and daughter. The two, more than used to weird things going down, weren’t ready for this level of weird. But, what else was there to do but find an alternate, less void filled, exit. The first thing they did was search for anything that would prove useful in the building. Looting the front desk produced what appeared to be a couple master keys left under some papers.

The papers themselves gave no useful information, knowing the building was called the Honeycomb Herald was about as useful as knowing the front desk agent had horrible penmanship. Right around the time they were scavenging for any maps of the building, they heard an off-note ding. The boys glanced at one another, then slowly peeked out to look at the elevator next to the left staircase. The doors swung open quietly, as if inviting them over. Cuphead noted that no one stepped off of the thing, but no one had been seen or heard calling it to this floor. The two, with Cuphead in the lead, Mugs close enough that Cuphead could feel his fingers brush against Mugs fingers, eased over to the elevator.

The interior was indeed empty, but unlike the lobby, it wasn’t even close to pristine. The elevator was covered in odd stains, had a flickering light that barely lit up the interior, but they both decided it was for the best that the stains were harder to determine. Poor, grimy white lighting aside, the walls had scratch marks gouged into the wood. In a bout of later decided stupidity, Cuphead stepped in. He’d claim he wanted to see how many floors there were. The second his entire body was in it, the doors slammed shut, startling the two so badly Cuphead’s high-pitched scream could be heard through the glass window.

Immediately Mugs pushed on the doors, trying to press them back inwards where they’d originally sat open. Cuphead tugged on the handles, digging his boots ineffectively into the tile. Above them, in the lobby, there was a great crash, both siblings froze. Mugs turned to look for the source, Cuphead watched him spot something towards something above them to the far right. All color drained from Mugs face, his eyes growing wide in horror. He glanced between his trapped Knight and the thing, as if trying to decide what to do. Cuphead, fear for his far more fragile brother building the longer the thing in the same room as Mugs remained out of his sight, started pulling on the doors again.

A freakishly loud buzzing shriek rattled the glass. Mugs flinched against the door, looking less lost and more decided. He held up four fingers to Cuphead, as thundering footsteps would have made hearing him near impossible. Then, with one last glance at Cuphead, he closed the outer door, the one that had been propped open before they’d gotten there, and ran off.

Through the glass of both doors, Cuphead watched as not twenty seconds later, a grotesque, bulbous yellow and black colored creature wearing the shredded remains of a uniform, followed after his brother. Its thick legs carrying it in a quick, lurching motion. He mashed the button for the fourth floor, hoping Mugs knew what he was doing.

\---0---0---0---

The doors to the stairway were made of a thick metal, even so, after slamming it shut and locking it with the master key he had, Mugs didn’t slow down. He shot up the stairwell, threw open the door to the second floor, and locked it shut behind him. The more doors he put between him and the thing, the better. The place was looking more and more like a hotel, but it was also growing far more evident that the lobby was simply a façade. The hallway he was in was dark, the floors were splotched with old stains. Everything looked ten years past the point of needing refurbishment. Some doors had holes ripped into them, others simply didn’t have a visible door at all. He heard the door at the end of the hall bang loudly, the creature as determined to get him as he was to avoid the creature.

At the last second, he chose a door that was already propped open, figuring if he went for one of the closed ones, that would be the first place the thing would look. He chose the bathroom, in the cabinets under the sink, to hide. Being small, and being able to remove one’s head, was infinitely useful for finding odd hiding places that no one else would fit into. The fact that he didn’t need to breathe was another bonus. He heard it storm down the hall, ripping any doors it saw closed open. While he was not happy with it following him, he was glad to know it wasn’t after his brother. He was more than certain glass would be useless against that thing.

Staying in place as it continued to roar angrily for him, he figured he would continue on when the thing wasn’t throwing what sounded like a bed across a room.

\---0---0---0---

Cuphead, the second the doors opened by themselves, dove out of the thing. Newfound hatred for elevators cemented forever in place, he began trying to decide whether to use the stairs to meet up with his brother or stay on the fourth floor and wait. The Knight part of him demanded he find his brother, but the brother part of him said to wait. Choosing to side with the brother in him, he figured it couldn’t hurt to look around on the floor so when Mugs got to him, he’d have something to say. Trying to race down would just mean he’d be drawing attention in a cramped space to him and his brother anyway.

So, with nothing better to do other than hope Mugs was fine, he opened the first door that caught his attention, and went in. The room was barely lit with a pathetically weak bulb. With no Inkwell to give him better night vision, he was stuck calling up just enough energy for one of his bullets for it to glow, but not fire. Hand alight, he examined the hotel room. It looked like it had been gorgeous in its heyday, but the current state of things was more disgusting than rich. The carpet squelched when stepped on, and while he found that gross, it was worse when the squelching was replaced by crunching. He didn’t really want to look down to see what was causing the noise.

The bed was in decent condition all things considered. The rest of the furniture was less fortunate. The chair by the crushed table was missing the back entirely. The vanity at the opposite end of the bed was broken far beyond repair. It looked like that creature had tried using it as a seat. Looking out the rooms window, he saw the exact same black void he’d seen in the lobby. He didn’t feel like learning what it was like on the outside, so, not bothering to try opening the window, he continued on exploring the room.

He had hoped that the room would have a map of some sort he could use so he didn’t stumble around in the dark. Not finding one among the debris, he left the first room, skipped to the third room and tried that one instead. Much like the first room, this room was in disarray, unlike the last room, this one had three very clearly alive people.  

He waved, figuring if they were hostile, he had the ability to put them down.

They screamed.

Oddly enough, it was a perfectly harmonized scream, if a bit lacking in bass.

\---0---0---0---

Mugs, thinking of all the various things he could be doing at this time, wound up sitting in the cabinet for five minutes give or take. He wished he could be more scared, but this just gave him flashbacks to Kahl’s ‘village o’ regret’. Finally, no longer hearing the creature, he crawled out of the cabinet, and almost ran into an axe. Or rather, an axe being. They reared back in shock, twisted to run, and wound up embedded in the closet. Mugs, feeling just a tad bad for them, helped get them unstuck, muttering soothing, friendly things while doing so. After a quick introduction, Chip, the axe, filled Mugs in with everything he knew about the building.

“At some point I got to the top penthouse, and there was this queen bee up there. She told me if I wanted out, I had to find the exit. I just wanted to try and solve the mystery of this place myself. Instead I’m stuck here, and I’ve seen other people come in here too! I’ve never seen someone leave unless it was in the dead sense. Sometimes, not even then.” Chip paused, listening for something Mugs didn’t know. After a few moments of silence, he continued.

“There are spirits here, not the nice kind either. I don’t know how they got stuck here, but I don’t recommend going near any bodies you see. There are a lot of those. The room next to this one has a couple. Those two were awful nice, but they fell asleep and the things were patrolling. They must have done something to make the room look different. Anyway, that thing that passed is the worst of them. It’s that Queen’s guard.” He grabbed Mugs hand, pulling him from the room and out to the halls.

“But, if we can get to the third floor, we’ll be safe from him. He has this odd thing where he only goes on even floors, except the lobby. I’ve never seen him on any of the odd floors.”

“Excuse me asking but, how many floors are there?” Mugs spoke up, letting the man lead him towards an unmarked door.

“Oh, I think there are thirty. I’ve been around for a little while. A few weeks maybe? We’re lucky, we don’t need food. Gosh though, I wish I could have met you under better circumstances!” Chip, trying to keep from thinking of how long he’d been stuck, paused before opening the door to shake Mugs hand enthusiastically. Mugs gave him a bright smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve met folks in worse conditions!” That unfortunate skeleton, the robot, and Cagney all came to his mind. Chip shrugged, opened the door to the other staircase, and quickly pulled Mugs up to the third floor. If that thing patrolled even floors, he needed to be near Cuphead to ensure Cuphead was okay. Needless to say he wasn’t exactly sure why they were going to the third rather than the fourth. Still, he didn’t want to just leave this guy alone.

“Don’t you worry Lady, I’m just going to show you to the other one I’ve managed to find, she’s a real spitfire I tell ya. What better way to up survival than by staying in a group!” Chip cheerfully said. Mugs noticed that Chip didn’t talk loudly, despite his clear excitement. A blisteringly enraged shriek told him why. The door they were passing began slamming against its frame, barely staying closed.

“I told you Mary! I told you to stop blaming me! It’s not my fault!” A man’s voice boomed, easily heard through the wood.

“It is! I wanted to go to a simple motel but you refused! Now look! We’re stuck here! I’m starving, the water tastes like watered down honey, and there’s been no signs of life!” A woman shrieked, something smashed against the door frame. Chip didn’t seem scared, though he very carefully didn’t speak up.

“I am _not staying_ in some beat up flea joint when I have the dough for better things!”

“Fat lot of good that dough is doing now! We’re going to starve to death at this point! Dammit I knew I should have pushed harder for that other place.” The woman broke off into a loud, wailing sob. Mugs took a step closer, thinking it was someone suffering that needed help. Chip yanked Mugs away, frantically shaking his head.

“Don’t cry Mary, that doesn’t help our… hang on, I think I heard something out there. Let me—” Though Mugs could clearly see the door, the next sound that filled the hall was the sound of the door being ripped open by something not there. He heard it slam on the wall, though it didn’t move. Then, the sound of something fleshy meeting something that could shred said flesh. The sobbing immediately turned to shrieks of unadulterated terror and agony. There was a meaty thud, quiet gurgling, then just more screams and pleas for mercy along with cries of the woman’s husband’s name.

“Echoes.” Chip whispered, so quietly Mugs almost didn’t hear him over the sounds of someone being torn apart. Mugs knew that, he was a necromancer, but the sheer strength behind the echo was vastly different than the usual variety.

“I need to get to the fourth floor.” Mugs muttered breathlessly, soul liquid pulsing rapidly. He mindlessly went back for the door, even as more screams began to fill the air, some angry, others agonized. Chip’s grip increased to a near painful level on Mugs wrist.

“We will, I promise, just, we need to get that gal I found too, she says she’s good with a sword. The living threats always come to check out this sound too, so we have to get to the room and stay until the hall is cleared again.” Chip pulled Mugs towards an in-tact door in the middle of the hall, forcing the Lady to follow him. True to his word, the doors to the stairs began to rattle. Mugs wished he’d paused to lock the door behind him. Still, he wasn’t as strong as the axe, so, with no brother at his side but above him, he let Chip pull him along.

\---0---0---0---

“My Knight sense is tingling, my brother is in potential danger, and I’m stuck here…with you three.” Cuphead grumbled. The trio of singers didn’t seem all that offended. They merely shrugged, giving him a sympathetic, but perfectly synced, hum.

“We just wanted to find our fourth, we’re a quartet, not a trio, we really shine when we’re all together.”

“While we look for ours we can certainly help you look for yours, it’s been a few days since we arrived anyway.”

“I’m sure our fourth won’t mind! Besides, they always said if you stop looking for something, it’ll show up.” The trio, sufficiently cheered up, continued to sit in place. Cuphead was left confused, unsure as to whether they were waiting for him to move or for something to happen.

When he tried to open his mouth, they promptly shushed him fiercely, saying in unison “don’t make a sound for now, he’s making his rounds.” Leaving Cuphead infinitely more confused. The confusion lasted about as long as it took for the screaming to start seemingly everywhere. Cuphead jolted, hand flying to his swords. The trio remained silent, staring at the door behind Cuphead with clear anxiety. An ever-familiar stomping could be heard back the way Cuphead had come, near the elevator.

It was all too clear that the thing that had chased Mugs had lost sight of him. If he hadn’t, Cuphead would have heard the tell-tale sound of lightning. One of the trio ushered him over to them. Over the cacophony of screams, Cuphead heard them shift to lean closer to him.

“That’s the Guard. He’s not friendly at all.”

“He’s the reason we got split up in the first place. Our fourth was always grand at running you see.”

“Once the screaming stops and the Guard leaves, we’ll go out. He patrols every floor, but it’s always in a methodical manner. He’s going to go up, so we need to go down.”

Cuphead nodded, willing to go with it. Despite not being connected to Inkwell anymore, he still knew how to read people, and these three meant no harm.

“Besides, he’s not the only thing wandering.”

“Yes, we’ve seen souls about, here and there, none of them were all that friendly.”

“Bodies too, this place isn’t great for a healthy or long life.”

Cuphead dearly hoped the trio didn’t do the sentence switch thing all the time, he wasn’t sure how long he could take it if they did.

 He wondered if the spirits were the reason the third one had a crack on his face. If Mugs was there, he’d have healed it the moment he got the chance. Cuphead just quietly sat, figuring if he went down while Mugs was going up, they’d run into each other.

He listened as the screaming died down, or more accurately, stopped entirely. The halls fell silent again, Cuphead could only hear the sound of the thing stomping its way to the other stairwell, the moment the door closed, the Knight and the trio were on the move. Cuphead wanted to get to his brother as fast as possible, the moment he was with Mugs, he could better help the trio, and get out.

\---0---0---0---

Chip closed the door behind Mugs, not locking it, but not letting him linger near it. In the far less destroyed room, there was a girl with thick hair and a bright pirate costume. Outfit… He didn’t know, he’d never seen a pirate outside of the books he’d read with Cuphead when they were little children. Brineybeard didn’t count, Brineybeard was dead, and he wasn’t wearing anything near as flashy as this girl was. She turned at the sound of their arrival, cutlass in hand.

“Oh! It’s just you, and, you found someone? Awful fancy dress you got on lass!” She sounded peppy, but tired. He could easily guess why if that echo was correct about no food. She was likely starving.

“Hey! This is the Lady! Uh, or, Lady Inkwell.”

“Oh? Oh! Interesting! You the one with the fancy magic, right?” She moved, adjusting the way she sat. It was then he saw the impressively sized drumstick sitting on a plate, nearly picked clean. Had he been the Eighth Lady, he’d likely have flipped out and ran for his sibling. As he was not edible, he simply figured she’d done what was needed to survive. Even so, he couldn’t figure out how she’d cooked it.

“I suppose so? I never thought necromancy was fancy but…” He drifted off, unsure of how to proceed. She shrugged.

“For us non-magical sort, any magic can be pretty fancy.” She replied, wiping her hands off on the covers. She stood up, wiped her hands on her filthy skirt, and offered one out for him to shake. Figuring white gloves were for wimps, he took her hand without hesitation. She smiled at him, teeth stained with the remains of her recent meal.

Mugs dearly wanted his brother. Not because she was very clearly testing his reactions, but because she was crushing his hand with her beyond tight grip. Cuphead would have returned the test of strength easily.

“Oh right, were you hungry at all? Chip tells me his kind don’t need to eat but I think he’s sneaking snacks behind my back. There’s a kitchen with a huge pantry. Whole lot of rot in there but the back wall is chock full of honey, it’s just a wall of honey.” Mugs shook his head, if they were in a less dangerous situation he’d have left a note for Cuphead to find and gone for the honey.

“Well, the gangs all here! Lady here needs to find his Knight, so, would you like to come with us?” Chip spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention. She gleefully nodded, swinging her cutlass around in an impressive manner.

“Lost your man? D’you know where he most likely ran off to?”

“I told him to go to the fourth floor.”

“Brilliant! That beastie likes going to the odd floors. The smaller ones like the beastie are easy to cut down. They don’t taste right, but it works!” Mugs brows furrowed in confusion.

“Wait, but I thought he only went through the even floors?”

“Or was it even? I don’t recall, been here a week y’see?” She shrugged, Chip gave Mugs a weak smile.

“Uh, well, we should start on the fourth anyway.” Mugs spoke exactly as he would if he wasn’t nervous and growing more and more sure that he’d run into the dangerous sort of survivors. He wasn’t sure if they were messing with him out of hostility or sheer stress.

“Right! I’ll take point then! Tiny arms like those won’t stand up even to one of the smaller ones.” The girl proclaimed, yanking open the door and storming out. Chip pushed Mugs back out the room door, giving the Lady zero time to figure out what had just happened.

“So,” the girl spoke up while they walked towards the stairwell. “What’s the point o’ the Lady again?”

“You know all the other countries, right? How they have a lot of power struggles and war?”

“Yeah.”

“Inkwell didn’t like that, but it liked watching people work. The Lady and Knight keep war and other less appealing things from hitting Inkwell.” Mugs, far more alert than he appeared, watched her open the stair door. Chip, from behind him, kept watch of everything she didn’t. The stairs appeared empty, there was some shuffling from above, but in this case, the dull lighting proved helpful.

The girl spun and grabbed the Lady’s hand, pulling him into a nearby door leading to the next floor. She told Chip to stay in the stairwell as she needed the Lady to help her out with something. He agreed, and she didn’t bother to spare him another glance before she closed the stairwell door and pulled him into the first room she could spot that had a solid door.

“Listen to me Lass, that fella out there, he’s been here too long.” She whispered to him. “He’s a coward who’s been surrounded by what all cowards fear, death. Don’t stay around him long, don’t act nervous around him, play along and wait until you can escape.” She gave him a hard stare until he weakly nodded. “Good, being honest I was going abandon him soon. Just, for now, stick near me, I’ll be your temporary knight okay?” She didn’t bother waiting for him to respond before she pulled him back out and gleefully greeted Chip the second she got them back to the stairwell.

Surrounded by strangers, Mugs almost hoped they’d hear the door above open and his brother would step out.

They _did_ , in fact, hear the door open. Except it wasn’t his brother.

It was what had to be five or so smaller creatures. Some looked like diseased bee’s. Other varied corpses following along were missing entire chunks of their bodies. The moment the group spotted their small trio, they screamed. A loud buzzing scream that was answered by a far louder roaring buzz from above them. The girl cut the head off of one of the creatures with proficient ease. Chip shoved the Lady into a corner, then dove in to help the pirate. They cut down the bodies with impressive ease, likely used to fending off the lesser threats. He watched them almost callously heft the bodies over the railing to make room so they could ascend the stairs faster.

The lesser threats were taken care of so quickly, Mugs was once more yanked by Chip. They ascended the stairs quickly, and burst onto the fourth floor.

\---0---0---0---

The staircase they were in was quiet, and stained beyond recognition. If Cuphead was being honest, he’d have said he liked the filth more than the freakishly time stopped lobby. The group moved down to the second floor, hoping to run into the Lady who likely had hidden on this floor first. Cuphead loathed how he couldn’t tell where his brother was. Inkwell always knew, it was impossible for a Knight and Lady to lose one another as long as they were on Inkwell.

Tapping the doors they passed in an old tune the brothers had come up with so they’d be able to locate one another without stupidly screaming out names, the group made their way down the hall. After the fifth knock pattern, the trio began humming it, easily overpowering the knocking. Cuphead stared off into the distance, direly hoping Mugs hadn’t run into the fourth. Especially when three of the doors ahead swung or flopped open to give way to smaller creatures lured by the singing.

Cuphead drew his sword, choosing to save his bullets for emergencies. With no Inkwell to augment his magic, the thing would wind up draining him far faster than he could keep up with. Behind him, the humming turned into terrified, but still perfectly toned singing. Cuphead glanced back in disbelief, wondering just how the group had survived thus far. Much to his surprise, the creatures were doing the same. In fact, the creatures had gone from throwing themselves at the group to just awkwardly staring.

 One rabbit corpse scratched its’ head.

The trio quickly backed up to the stairwell, one hastily pulled open the door, and they receded back to safety. The creatures did not follow.

“The hell was that?!” One of them spoke up, remaining eyebrow furrowed, eyes wide.

“Damn fine singing Larry, damn fine.” A chicken responded.

\---0---0---0---

It was pure luck that Mugs had managed to open the door to a locked room fast enough for the group to get into before the large creature stormed into the hall.

“Well, this ain’t so bad.” The pirate whispered, crouched behind the chair near the window.

“Yeah, death isn’t so scary when someone can just bring you back!” Chip replied just as quietly from where he’d embedded himself on the ceiling. Mugs _almost_ slapped his palm to his forehead, but the filthy gloves were _just_ enough of a deterrent.

“If that thing—”

“Gosh, I bet the confidence boost you give us could help fight the Guard! If he was gone, we wouldn’t have to worry so much about dying!” Chip cheered, interrupting Mugs. He noted that the axe was still quiet, despite his words.

“Please don’t.” He quietly begged, not willing to use any of his magic. He had no actual idea how much magic he had with no Inkwell to bolster him up. No Lady really learned how much they had until they were no longer the Lady. Some simply lost all of their magic, others had a healthy pool of it. There was no way he was wasting his magic on strangers until he knew his brother was safe. If it turned out he only had enough to bring back one person, he’d use it on Cuphead.

“Don’t you worry, Lass. I’m the finest swordswoman of the sea, why I only came here lookin for a prime fight! That, and I figured there might be some loot in this place.” She gave him a bold grin. Everyone fell silent when they heard footsteps thump outside the door. The footsteps paused for a moment, and Mugs wondered why they did, but just a second later they started back up. They faded off into the distance, and the pirate girl heaved a sigh. Chip dug himself out of the ceiling, loudly landing back on the floor. Mugs flinched at the sound, mind racing to figure out why he felt like they shouldn’t have done that.

It was right about the moment the pirate girl threw open the door, remarking about how easy the big one was to trick while the other two followed after her that he realized it.

“Why, I bet I could be a right fine knight, don’t you think La—” The first thing that gave in was the arm holding the sword. Under the harsh grip of the Guard, who’d been hiding in the room next to theirs, her bones didn’t stand any chance. The next thing to crack was her ribcage. She’d tried squirming out of the grip, agony twisting her pale features. It snorted, and before she could start screaming, it wrapped a third hand around her skull, and squeezed. A piece of brain matter landed on Mugs dress. The lifeless body was dropped to the floor.

It reached for him next, looking pleased with its’ most recent success, but ever eager for more. Chip swung himself around and buried his sharp edge into the hand, cutting it clean off. The second the creature reared back in surprised pain, Chip grabbed Mugs and made a break for it. Mugs watched the creature angrily stomp on the girls remains, crushing the abdomen until organs slid out. The door to the stairway slammed shut, but not before the creature grinned at him.

Chip hauled him up to the fifth floor, running for the other staircase, blazing through a few smaller creatures. Up and up he went, not stopping until he reached the eleventh floor. Below them they could hear the creature hitting the railing on the stairs right as they slammed the door shut. Chip used the master key to lock the door behind him and ran for the first door on the left. He threw Mugs in, tossing the Lady on the mattress harshly.

“Stay here, I’ll fix the hall up a bit and come back.” He said, a terrified shake to his voice. He closed the door behind him, Mugs could hear the lock slide into place. Then, sounds of doors closing all down the hall, as if Chip was closing as many doors as he could. Mugs, dazed by all the violent handling, barely managed to get up before the lock was turning and Chip was reappearing. Chip closed the door far more quietly than he had the others, and locked it once more.

Spinning to face the now clearly shivering Lady, he gave Mugs a smile that did the opposite of comfort the young teen.

“It’s okay,” He whispered as the angry footsteps began echoing clear even through the thick metal door of the staircase and wood of their room. “You’re here.” He said like that was the best thing in the world. “I can’t die if you’re here.” He grabbed Mugs shoulders, pulling him close, hands trembling so badly his grip slipped on the smooth porcelain a few times. Mugs hesitantly pat Chip on the forearm, dearly wishing they had run into Cuphead.

Chip returned to the door, standing by it and listening for any sounds. His harsh breathing filled the room with an unpleasant rattle. Mugs carefully slid the pilfered key back under his glove, making sure Chip didn’t see the action. He just needed a moment where Chip wasn’t focused to get away.

\---0---0---0---

“The boisterous noise above them startled the group. Immediately, the trio ceased all movement, locking Cuphead into place. They’d been heading to the first floor to go to the other stairwell, the one the trio claimed was always less cluttered. All the noise above them simply cemented the idea of going to the other stairwell. Using the sounds above, they stealthily made their way to the door, closed it softly behind them, and headed for the stairwell with a torn door.

“It sounds like they’ve found someone. Not too rare an occurrence.”

“They like giving chase, they aren’t as dumb as they show. We’ve seen them pick locks, the smaller ones.”

“But that’s okay, we’re great at making barricades!”

“Please stop talking like that.” Cuphead groaned.

“No.” They said in unison, giving him a bright smile each.

“Ugh. If they found someone, it might have been my brother. I need to go up and find them.” Cuphead decided moving on was the best option. If he didn’t reunite with Mugs soon he was going to stab at least one of the men once again humming behind him.

“Oh you know, why don’t we try asking?”

“You mean that thing we did before?”

“It _did_ work, I don’t see why not.” Immediately, instead of going up the stairs any further, they stopped on the fourth floor once more and gained the attention of a ghost. The first one Cuphead had seen rather than just heard. In pure, perfect singing harmony, the trio did what they did best. Harmonized a question.

“Excuse me~”

“But you wouldn’t happen to have seen~”

“A Lady sweet and fair~”

“Albeit with no hair~”

The ghost, much like Cuphead, and literally anyone that heard it, gaped at the trio.

“Wow…”

“That would have sounded much better with a bass.”

“We lost him!” The trio wailed, still in sync. One of the ghosts clapped.

“He’s on the sixth floor.” A younger spirit said, pointing up.

“Oh, but we did see an axe carrying some terrified looking dame upstairs as well, not sure what floor though. Something is wrong with that axe fella, I tell you.” A ghost missing half his face somehow said. Cuphead, soul empty of all understanding, numbly nodded, and shuffled back to the stairwell. The trio all but heaved him up on their shoulders, ignoring his surprised wheeze. The sixth floors door didn’t stand a chance to their eager energy. It didn’t have to really, they politely opened it up, shuffled in, ignored the corpse squashed into the wall next to the entrance, and began to sing. Cuphead, still up in the air, felt a scream get stuck in his non-existent throat.

\---0---0---0---

Exploring the room while Chip paced silently by the door was Mugs way of keeping himself together. In a stroke of luck, he spotted a hole in the wall leading to the next room, carved in by someone from the past. It was hidden behind the vanity, which meant that Mugs had to move the furniture in order to get to the hole. He glanced around the room, looking for something that would give him an excuse. Below them, they could hear the creature banging around in the rooms. The thing hadn’t guessed that they were on the eleventh floor apparently.

Every once in a while, Chip would pace over to Mugs, mutter quiet pleas to keep death away, and go back to pacing near the door. Mugs hated when Chip would get far closer than needed, but he wasn’t Cuphead. Instead of pushing Chip away, he just let Chip rant and plead and stare at him, grab his arms desperately. He wondered if he’d rather be dealing with the thing out there than the thing in the room with him.

Lady Mugs didn’t fear the dead, it simply wasn’t possible for him to do so. Not when he revived them and had been surrounded by dead things nearly all his life. The dead couldn’t hurt him, he was safe among the rot and decay.

The living had no such problems doing whatever they wanted to him and all Ladies of the past. With no Inkwell to put a threatening pressure in the air: no Cuphead to blatantly threaten overly touchy denizens, he was just about at the mercy of the far stronger metal being. Sometimes he hated knowing he’d inherited traits of his mother’s bone china rather than just all porcelain like his father.

He finally got his chance when a spirt, a female cat, caught his gaze through the hole. She peered at him for a few moments, as if debating what she wanted to do. At first, he was disheartened to see her vanish without a trace. Then the door to their room began rattling almost to the point where the frame cracked. Shrieks, full of rage, shook the walls, sending Chip into a panic. He darted for the bathroom, slamming the door. The vanity crashed to the floor, glass shattering and scattering over the carpet. The cat beckoned him over, so he took the chance, and followed. His far smaller body easily fitting through.

She took his hands and led him to the door to the room. Though she didn’t say anything, there was a certain look to her body that sent a pang of pity through him. He didn’t know what made him forget where he was, made him forget the Lady was horrible at single target spells. But, he let his magic go, let it find her soul, and five more in the area, and do as it did to Kahl’s robot. She seemed almost surprised at suddenly seeing an exit of her own. She gave him a sweet smile, opened her mouth, and let out an ungodly screech that sent the spirits around them not gone into a frenzy.

“That should keep him away. Good luck, Lady.” She gave him a cheeky wink, a sweet smile, and vanished, letting his magic send her to wherever her soul was destined to go.  Realizing the booming noise was cover for his go at escaping, he took it gratefully. Even as the door that was still locked began banging, Chip shouting for Mugs to come back, he hauled it towards the other end of the hall. Ripping open the stairwell door, he desperately tried to figure out what to do from there.

Taking his chances, he ripped one of his gloves off, put his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. The same sort of whistle Elder Kettle would use to call the boys to him when they went out onto the castle grounds. It easily overrode the screams around the area, bouncing around the stairwell’s cement walls. Not a few seconds later, a answering whistle responded below him. As well as the sounds of two doors slamming open. From his vantage point, he could clearly see the Guard, seething and bleeding on the landing below his.

“What a whistle!”

“Wowie, that was impressive!”

“Is that your brother’s doing?”

“ **Another for the Queen.** ” The Guard hissed, deep voice carrying over the still growing wails. It charged up towards him, but Mugs was far more nimble. He dove up the stairs, heels digging into any cracks they found to give him more speed. He heard his brother’s voice among the noise, calling his name. With no time to respond, he let out another sharp whistle to give Cuphead a better idea of where he was going, and tore into the thirteenth floors hall. The creature smashed into the wall, skidding along a slick patch of gore. It narrowly missed grabbing the ribbon fluttering on Mugs handle.

Below, Cuphead could be heard screaming for someone or multiple people to stop singing dramatically while something tried to kill his brother. Mugs, with the creature hot on his heels, continued sprinting. Putting on a burst of speed he managed to get to the other stairwell before the creature could even get three-fourths of the way down the hall. He locked the door shut behind him, giving out another piercing whistle, hoping he wasn’t making his Knight more confused. He was about to go down, hoping to get to the floor below so he could get closer to his sibling.

A smaller bee creature on the landing below killed that plan. His heels slid on the floor, going out from under him. He caught himself on the railing and pulled his legs back under just in time to avoid being grabbed. He shot up the stairs, never happier for his habit of running around as a child.

The Guard crashed open the door, crushing the smaller bee between the door and the wall in its’ haste to get up. Mugs threw himself into the seventeenth floor’s hall, deciding at the last second to throw himself into a room with a fully in tact door. He locked it behind him and shoved the nearby chair under the handle while going for the rest of the furniture. Right as he was pushing the vanity into the small entranceway, the door all but cracked under a sudden blow. As he had been putting all of his weight on one leg to push the vanity back, his ankle, not strong enough to withstand the force, cracked.

\---0---0---0---

It had been four hours since the two had gone missing. Inkwell was in a tizzy, rivers more wiggled than flowed, hills crumbled or grew. All while Inkwell screamed at Hell. Those in buildings fled, fearing the buildings would topple under the intense quakes. Inkwell shrieked its rage at Hell, demanding Hell give its children back. Hell, frantically looking all over itself for any sign of the two, only found a few spirits rejoicing at their newfound freedom. They spoke of the Lady allowing their souls to escape and Hell groaned.

**“I gave them something of mine, let them use those things, and I will find them.”** Hell said, trying to placate the enraged land above it.

“ _You sorry mound of fetid rot! Stop stealing my children, control your own! I’ve never done anything to you! If they aren’t back with me before the day ends however, I will. That person your child fancies. I’ll crush him. I’ll lock his soul away so you and your child will never see him again! Give my children back!” _Inkwell wailed in response.

Hell, picturing Devil losing the single person he dearly loved, panicked.

**“I will! I swear! Just, please, let them use their gifts, and I’ll send Devil for them.”**

“ _My sweet children!”_ Inkwell continued to cry, magic giving it life rolling under its surface in intense waves of distress.

\---0---0---0---

Mugs collapsed, had it not been for his stockings, his foot would have fallen clean away from his leg. His magic, rolling under his grip in heavy ripples, eagerly snapped out of his control and repaired the break the moment the foot was in proper place. Choosing to ignore the lost hold, however temporary or helpful, Mugs scrambled away from the doorway, looking for any holes in the walls he could slip through. No such exit could be seen, and he was all out of time to try making his own. The door tore off the wall, bits of the hinge following it. The creature kicked the vanity out of the way, and stormed in.

Mugs, having ducked into the closet by the door, tried to quietly back out of the wide-open exit. He’d almost made it too, unfortunately, a cold hand wrapped around his upper arm, yanking him towards the creature. He felt its’ claws wrap around his handle, scraping the porcelain near the ribbon.

“ **Not fast enough.** ” It said, buzzing, gravelly voice breathlessly hissing as it forced him to turn. The moment its fingers brushed the ribbon, an unearthly howl ripped through the room. A vivid circle carved itself into the carpet behind the thing. It let him go, turning to face the new threat. The last thing it saw was a maw full of ebony teeth.

“Puppy.” Mugs, weakly clutching his cracked arm, stared at the beast easily shredding the thing that had been chasing him. The hound, pitch-black fur glowing an aggressive red-orange underneath, cracked the things head in half with a single bite. It dug razor sharp claws into any flesh it could find, and tore into that as well.  By the time it was done, the Guard was nothing more than indistinguishable lumps scattered about the floor. The beast, as if mocking the Guard, sneezed out a chunk of brain matter. Then it turned its attention to Mugs.

“Puppy.” He repeated, letting the hound sniff his face. It wagged two tails at him, so he pet it under the chin. When Cuphead finally got to him a minute later, the hound was a puddle of joy at Mugs feet. It perked up at the sight of the Knight, but ultimately didn’t do anything else, too content to be scratched around the ear.

“Big dog.” Cuphead muttered. Two seconds later he had his arms full of a shivering brother.

“That was terrible.” Mugs quietly spoke into Cuphead’s shoulder. Cuphead snorted.

“Worst hotel I’ve ever been in, I tell you what, the front desk will be hearing about this. Not even complimentary treats on our pillows!” Cuphead joked, glad to hear a muffled giggle. The hound stood up, shook its fur back out, and barked. The barking sounded like countless souls of the damned screaming in agony.

“I’m naming him Biscuit.” Mugs spoke, turning his head but not loosening his grip around his brother.

“Biscuit… Demon dog clearly from hell, and you want to name him Biscuit.”

“Yes.”

“Fine, but I get to name any other animals we acquire.”

“Deal.”

“Boy! You sure do—is that a hell hound?!” The now quartet had finally caught up, huffing and puffing, out of breath.

“His name is Biscuit.” Mugs responded, feeling far better with a clearly friendly hound at his back and his brother next to him.

“Hello Biscuit!” The fourth member waved at the hound. It barked at him, wagged its tail once more, then vanished back where it had come from.

“You know,” Cuphead said after a few minutes of quiet peace. Evidently the sound of a beast from hell was enough to deter anything from checking up on the living making no effort to stay quiet. “I think we _should_ pay a visit to management. Really make sure our message gets across.” The quartet weakly agreed, not exactly keen on running into anything that could control the creatures that had helped torment them.

Mugs took one look at the cracked face of the quartet member, and let his magic go once more without much thought. Instead of the loud burst it usually gave off, a quiet breeze was the only sign besides the flashes of green spreading along every wound everyone had. Figuring it was due to his magic growing weaker without Inkwell, despite not feeling fatigued in the least, he shrugged it off. Cuphead followed suit, deciding if his brother wasn’t nervous, there was nothing to be worried about.

The group made their way up, with Mugs enjoying the quiet humming the quartet did far more than Cuphead did. At one point, they came across a shredded moth wing, freshly torn out but the color of blood around the tear. Mugs paused, tugging on Cuphead’s handle to get him to stop. Silently pointing to the wing, the two followed the blood train with their eyes, all the way under the door to the twenty-third floor. The group opened the door and followed the splotches of bright blood dotting the floor, smearing the walls, up to the half-broken remains of a door.

Cuphead went in first, nearly tripping on the body torn up by the closet door. By the color of the wings, it was the owner of the piece in the stairwell. Mugs figured there was enough to bring back, did so. Unsurprisingly he brought back the three other bodies in the room. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that he didn’t even feel the slightest bit tired from how much he’d been doing with his magic. He wondered if he was one of the Ladies that had a healthy amount of magic on their own, but didn’t wonder long. Not when the man he’d brought back began weeping, cradling a body no one had seen to his chest.

The far smaller body seemed content to just look around the room. The quartet were what brought the reanimated’s attention to them. By singing a greeting song. The young girl, innards spilling on the floor, cheerfully laughed at their antics. The man, deciding they weren’t hostile, tried to stop crying. The nasty looking claw marks torn into his back gave everyone in the room the ability to see the remains of muscles twitch and pull to haul his upper body back up. The quartet, dedicated musicians they were, only _looked_ ill.

“Hello!” Mugs greeted once the quartet was finished. The father nodded in return.

“I guess my wife got worried, if you’re in here.” He mumbled, looking at his shredded wing.

“She did indeed. Do you think you’re complete enough to come with us or would you rather write a letter for her?”

“A letter, I don’t think there’s any way to escape. I tried looking for one for a good few hours, then those things found us.” The man began pulling his daughters organs back into her abdomen, breath hitching every time she asked him why he was doing that. “Mama would be upset with me if I brought you to her all scratched up.” He told her, nuzzling her nose with his own.

Mugs stood up, deciding to scrounge for paper and a pen. He wondered if there was a storage closet nearby that would have some in case past guests had wanted to write something. If there had ever been guests in the past. He bet there had been, based on how many corpses they’d passed on the stairs. None had dared reach for them, not being so near the Lady as they were. Telling Cuphead he was looking for a closet, giving the bodies one last burst of healing magic so the girls innards would stay inside her abdomen and the man’s legs would support his weight, just in case, he left the room.

The quartet stayed behind, but Cuphead followed, not that Mugs thought he’d do any different. Every floor had had a storage closet, but neither brother had found it important to open them up. This one was no different, master key working just fine on the lock. Scrounging around the various cleaning supplies, the two spot the things they were looking for right as the door at the other end of the hall burst open. Mugs, who’d been perched on Cuphead’s shoulder to reach the papers all the way up on the top shelf, jolted hard enough he just about fell over. Instead, Cuphead caught him by his calves so he dangled upside-down, one hand trying to keep his skirt from sliding down, the other trying to reach the ground.

Cuphead backed into the shadows of the closet, hoping whatever came down wouldn’t spot them. Mugs, unable to do much else for now, tried to judge his ability to right himself using the shelves. There was an odd sensation along the bare porcelain resting on Cuphead’s armor, like it was moving but Cuphead wasn’t. Mugs froze, entirely unsure as to what it was doing, much like Cuphead. Turning to face the other way, having no neck was great for such maneuvers, Mugs figured it out first. Though his vision should have been obscured by Cuphead’s leg, he could see nothing there. He would have said something had the ribbon dangling from his handle not wrapped around his face to cover his mouth.

The two watched as Chip rushed by, or as Cuphead knew him as, the axe guy that had manhandled his sibling. The axe peered into the closet, gave a confused huff, but left after a quick glance, expression tense with fear. They heard him speak to the quartet, Cuphead bent down so Mug could flip himself back over, and both returned to the visible world. Staring at his brigandine, Cuphead suddenly found himself loving it far more than he had before. Had it not done whatever that was, they’d have been seen. There was simply no way to hide bright white porcelain.

The quartet grew loud with harmonious exclamations of “we don’t know where he is!” followed by the moth husband demanding the axe speak about the Lady more politely.

“So he really _can_ chase away death!” Chip shouted gleefully. Cuphead frowned.

“Is he okay in the head?” He spoke softly, keeping his head close to Mugs.

“No, but he’s been here for a good few weeks, at least that’s what he said. I think we just need to get him out of here.”

“He’s not going near you. We can try locking him in a closet or something until we can talk to whoever owns this place.”

“How?”

“There you are!” Chip suddenly appearing in the doorway caused Cuphead to draw his short sword. The strangled wheeze he gave out indicated the barely bit back scream.

“I’ve been looking all over since you were spirited away!” Chip stepped into the room, Mugs backed up. Cuphead blocked Chip’s view of his brother, giving him a hard glare. The sword did not return to its sheath.

“Oh pardon me, I just need—”

“Elder Kettle once said you could cut the eyes out of a metal person. Take one more step and I’m going to see if he was telling the truth.” Approaching the Lady when she had shown a nervous reaction was a bad idea. Approaching the Lady when she’d shown a nervous reaction while in the presence of her Knight was even worse. Cuphead didn’t care if Chip was the nicest person in the world, Mugs didn’t want him near, so Chip would go no closer.

“You must be the Knight! It’s wonderful that you found him Lady! Awful violent though, are you sure he’s your knight? I didn’t know they could be so sword happy! That’s fine though, it’ll make staying alive easier!” Chip poked the tip of the bade, wincing when it easily pierced through his wooden finger.

“Chip? We’re trying to get to the queen you talked about, would you mind staying here until we finished talking to her?” Mugs shifted just enough so he was half visible.

“Gosh I’m not sure leaving me is wise, who knows what could happen to me if you left! Why, I’d end up like that pirate gal!” Chip’s hands shook. “I think you should stay with me, of course your Knight can stay too, the more the merrier right? Everyone knows the Lady is for the people!” Cuphead strode forward until Chip had no choice but to back up unless he wanted to be run through.

“The Lady may be for the people, but the Knight is for the Lady alone. Find a door to lock yourself in and stay there until we get done talking with whoever is upstairs.”

“Well gee, when you uh, put it like that I suppose I have no choice.” Chip awkwardly laughed, turning the direction of his steps so he backed further into the hall. Mugs made sure to keep Cuphead between them. Cuphead tossed his own master key over to Chip, then backed up, sent one more withering glare, and turned around. Chip shuffled back.

“You really will be finding a way out right. You won’t leave me here?” Chip spoke up once more, giving Mugs a pleading look. Mugs expression softened, he nodded, sending a reassuring smile towards the man.

“Just find a place to hide, you’re good at that right? We’ll come back when we’ve found the exit, okay? That way you’ll be safe.” He told Chip, letting Cuphead usher him away. Mugs had a feeling that Chip really had been a decent fellow, but being locked in a hostile hotel for weeks on end would wear anyone down. Chip had an odd look in his eye while watching Mugs and Cuphead return to the other group, and head for the stairs, two extra dead people in tow. The other corpses returned to their dormant state, souls breaking free from the hotels binds.

\---0---0---0---

“I’m so sorry, I hope you don’t mind writing the letter later?” Mugs apologized to the husband and girl. The husband shrugged, his little girl safely in his grip.

“I’ll do whatever is needed of me Lady Inkwell. I’ll admit I’d love to see my wife one more time, but I just don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cuphead shrugged glancing back every once in a while when a door below them opened. “We’ll find one, even if it means we have to fight our way out.”

“I’d prefer we didn’t fight anything, Cuphead.”

“Hey, I said even if. Whatever we do, this building has to go, it’s not exactly safe for Inkwell’s people.”

“Well yes, I never said we weren’t going to get Inkwell to launch this building into the moon.” The group fell silent as they ascended the stairs, either lost in their thoughts or unwilling to attract attention. The silence lasted for three floors, then, the humming began again.

Cuphead shot a glare back at the quartet.

Mugs hummed along.

Cuphead gave up.

\---0---0---0---

The thirtieth floor was reached shortly after the third song ended. Cuphead would be more upset, but Mugs was content, and he’d need to be considering they were about to meet the person behind the building.  The far more elaborate door opened up to a massive room in far better condition than the rest of the hotel. Everything was about as top quality as it could get, shining tiles with mirror finishes, thick gold curtains, the works. At the end of the room was a mahogany desk, and behind that, on an almost comically elaborate throne, sat a Queen. She arched an eyebrow as they approached, holding her hand up so two guards to either side of her didn’t move.

“Who approaches Queen Rumor Honeybottoms?” She spoke with a regal lilt to her voice, Cuphead scoffed.

“Lady Mugs of Inkwell, Sir Cuphead of Inkwell, and an amazing quartet. As well as two of this hotel’s victims.” Mugs replied with equal poise. Rumor sat up from her slightly hunched position.

“Lady? That’s hardly the dress I’d expect to see on a Lady.” She remarked disdainfully.

“Well this is hardly the hobby I’d expect a Queen to have, consider us both equally disappointed.” Mugs replied without missing a beat.

“Hobby? You think this is my hobby? Hardly! I’m the guide for the afterlife, I, along with my countless subjects ensure souls find their way wherever they need to go. Lately however, Hell has been falling into a sorry state.” She sneered at nothing in particular. The quartet, though far taller than the two porcelain children, tried to hide from her view. “I’m merely doing what needs to be done for Hell’s prosperity. Why, the moment I get strong enough I’m overthrowing that pathetic ball of fur sitting on Hell’s throne. He’s too distracted by a pretty face to do his job anymore!”

“So you’re taking your feud with the Devil to Inkwell’s soil? How rude. I suppose this makes me more disappointed than you after all.” Mugs watched her snap her gaze back to him, painted lips pulling up in a sneer.

“Is that so? What sort of child approaches a Queen like that? Have you no manners?”

“The Lady doesn’t bow to foreign invaders, especially not ones causing distress to the people of Inkwell like you are.” The moth husband glared at her, cradling his daughter close.

“I’m just upping the quota, as is needed. Far too many people are starting to linger, so I’m doing away with the ones foolish enough to approach an unknown place.”

“I feel like that excuse only works if you slapped a big ol’ sign out front that read ‘do not enter, building reserved for Hell’ out front.” Cuphead drawled, looking beyond unimpressed with Rumor. Rumor’s guards growled at him, but she held up her hand once more, and they settled.

“You are lucky I’m in a fair mood. This is my building, my hotel, my place of business. If I so chose, I could have you killed right on the spot you stand.”

“Y’know I always hear people say that, but then they never do it.” Cuphead shrugged. “Then again, I never met a person so crazy they decided they were better at ruling a place like Hell from some random junk hotel.” He sent her a sharp grin, letting his gore stained boots scuff the polished floor.

“Knight, hush.” Mugs brought the seething queens attention back to himself. “We only came here to learn if there was indeed an exit, and to warn her.” He gave her a far too sweet smile.

“Warn me about what?” She took the bait, believing he couldn’t really do anything in his position. The sweet smile grew wider.

“You say you have bee’s as your denizens? Well currently, there are quite a number roaming about Inkwell, correct?”

“Of course.” She leaned back, content to let him continue.

“Inkwell will kill every. Single. One. It doesn’t like foreigners taking away its’ Lady and Knight. On top of that, the last noble trying to stake their claim on Inkwell was killed by his own army returned to him trebuchet style. So what do you think Inkwell is going to do to your building? You truly believe you’ve got more magic than Inkwell?” She scowled at his saccharine smile.

“It doesn’t have the capacity to do that. It’s too clumsy to hurt my people.”

“Uncle Cagney isn’t. Nor is every other forest spirit. Anyway, this was just a friendly warning. I wouldn’t want you to be surprised when you’re guiding your own people to the afterlife. There _is_ an exit correct? You’re not a liar on top of a horrible decision maker, correct?” Mugs voice never once dropped from it’s poised, polite tone.

“There is, but it isn’t one you’ll be seeing. Inkwell isn’t here, _I rule this space and you aren’t leaving._ ” She stood from her throne and gestured to the group. The ribbon around Mugs handle unwound itself and daintily fell to the floor. A bright flash of hellfire later, Devil towered over the Lady, teeth bared in a barbarous grin.

“Hello, Honeybottoms, good to see you going the route of all the other dimwits thinking they can overthrow me.” He waved, tail curling around and coming down on one of the guards. Rumor’s suddenly pallid features were splattered with bits of bee.

“See, normally I wouldn’t exactly give a shit about your holier than thou personality. I don’t care if you want to call yourself ruler of the road to the afterlife. But see, these two? These two are important.”

“So what? This is my space Devil! I’ve got the home advantage, not you! Since when did you care for a couple of children?” She stood up, her own height almost matching Devil’s.

“Since Inkwell started threatening my future wife if these two aren’t returned in perfect health. Now,” He paused, leaning on his pitchfork. “I’m a nice fella, I’m willing to let you live, I’m even willing to let you continue on with your delusions, but you’re going to have to return these kids to Inkwell.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Devil, I’m not leaving without the others still alive in this building being released as well.” Mugs spoke up.

“Aw, he calls me Mr. Devil, that’s adorable.” He pat Mugs on the head, scrunching the straw a bit. “You heard the Lady!”

“I refuse, they have to find the exit! It’s the only way they’re getting out of here, and you.” She sat back down, firm in her belief that her space was stronger than anyone in the room with her. Devil tossed his head back and cackled. He twisted his head down and grinned at Mugs.

“Hey kid, how are you enjoying the present Hell gave you?” He spoke casually, tail waving lazily, narrowly avoiding the quartet. He didn’t bother to outright say it was how he’d found them, he didn’t need to.

“Oh it’s wonderful! It gave me a puppy and I named him Biscuit.” Mugs replied, giving Devil a bright grin.

“You named a hellhound Biscuit… I like you.” The building groaned, walls shaking as if under intense pressure. The windows in the room shattered, sending glass scattering everywhere. Rumor’s crown fell to the floor. Sunlight poured into the room, and all at once, Inkwell returned to them. It was wailing and screaming in blinding rage at Hell.

“Inkwell!” Both exclaimed at the same time.

“Well you heard her kids! Go find that exit, I’d recommend using the elevator.”

“Thank you, but we’ll take the long route, we have to find—”

“Got that taken care of too. Now go tell your pile of dirt to leave my man alone.” His tail curled around the two, easily lifting them up and carrying them over to the elevator. A small imp sat by the door, Mugs immediately cooed at it, gleefully petting the thing the moment it let him.

“Thank you, Mr. Devil!” Mugs called out to Devil, waving at him while Cuphead ushered him into the elevator. Devil waved back, muttering something about adopting and whatnot. The rest of the group followed after. The elevator doors shut, and the last thing anyone saw of Rumor was of her screaming while imps descended on her guards, devouring them in seconds.

Mugs held the tiny imp in his arms, its little feet dangled limply as it looked around at the group.

“Well, I guess you will be seeing your wife! I do wish it was under better circumstances,” Mugs told the moth. He smiled at the Lady in response, looking just as content as his daughter did.

“I’m just glad I’ll get to see her one more time, and I won’t be trapped in this place with the other ghosts.” The father hugged his daughter closer. He was fully aware the Lady wasn’t a miracle worker, but for those who were revived by one and were given the chance to say goodbye to loved ones, the Lady might as well have been.

\---0---0---0---

When the group finally exited the building, the imp ran off into a small portal, returning much to Mugs disappointment. The growing crowd in front of the building gratefully welcomed them and those who managed to survive. The woman was given the chance to give her family a few last kisses goodbye, she took it, even as she sobbed while her daughter happily declared she’d wait patiently like a grown up for her mother to join them later. Others were content to know loved ones were finally at peace, even if they couldn’t say goodbye like the moth could.

No one wanted to send the Lady back in just to revive a bunch of souls that had likely _just_ found peace. The two managed to get away from the crowd, bidding goodbye to the quartet. The dead he’d revived returned to the building. Ten minutes after the last person had escaped the building, Inkwell gave a great heave around it, and the building, as well as three empty ones near it, collapsed under the intense quake. Outside the city, Cuphead noticed the ribbon had returned around Mugs handle. He would have said something, but both were too busy being wrapped in a dirt cocoon. Inkwell would keep them in its’ own version of a hug for a good half hour, vacillating between cooing at them and hissing wrathful promises of what it would do to Hell if Hell ever let its children take Inkwell’s own.

Neither brother minded. Though Mugs would request Inkwell be sure the souls from the building were indeed sent to the afterlife properly, especially the moth family and the pirate girl. They still had to continue on and find the person badmouthing the Knight, but for now, they would let Inkwell celebrate their return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I both write and edit these things, so any time you run into an error, which, I sincerely hope you don't but no one is perfect, that's why. I swear i don't know how it ended up this long. but this is all you're getting for Lady until I write a chapter in my other story. the King Dice chapter will wait.


	24. Unwanted guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who just barges into someones apartment like they own it? A demon, that's who.

Devil was out doing business. He’d mentioned something about needing to be gone for a while. As such, three days with the Devil gone thus far, the two were handling things just fine. King Dice was lounging on the sofa, sprawled out, reading one of his text books while his roommates familiar slithered around in his clothing. The roommate was on the floor, letting the radio play on their abdomen.  Every once in a while, King Dice would sing along to songs he knew. It was peaceful.

It was nice.

Then their apartment door creaked open despite having been locked, and what had to be a demon strode in like they owned the place. The roommate didn’t bother to turn down the radio, King Dice didn’t bother to stop singing. They didn’t do it because they weren’t worried, they did it out of spite. Because if there was one thing both of them shared, it was a healthy amount of spite.

Both noted that the demon seemed content to just listen and watch, however, and then the roommate noticed the red dripping from the thing.

“Hey!” They shot up, radio rolling onto their legs. “Son of a bitch we just cleaned those fucking floors!” They gently set the radio down on the table near the sofa and moved to go to the kitchen to grab cleaning supplies before it stained.

“You had better clean that.” King Dice drawled, turning a page. When the couch shifted under extra weight, he finally looked up at the demon now looming over him, their hands pressing into the cushions near his chest. The demon, rather than being furry like Devil, was red. His black horns curved out and back in rather than just sloping back like Devil’s. He wore a bloodstained gray suit with an orange ascot, and apparently had never heard of personal space. King Dice, thus far, was less than impressed.

“Well goodness but you are hard to find!” The man said, he went to reach for King Dice’s face, as if wanting to examine it. King Dice immediately reared back as much as he could and smacked the book into the man’s hands, batting them away sharply.

“Wouldn’t you know it?” The roommate spoke with a dangerous undertone, “Not a single rat trap in here King, and ain’t that a shame? What with the sudden infestation.” The roommate held a mop in their hand like a spear. In their other hand was a rake, though why the roommate had it, King Dice would never know. The demon glanced at them lazily.

“Buddy you don’t know what this mop has cleaned up in its life time. I suggest you hop off my roommate before I introduce an entire civilization of germs to your face.” Neither expected the demon to listen, he simply didn’t seem the sort, and they were proven correct when the man simply sat back on King Dices’ thighs. King Dice reacted by trying to shift out from underneath the man. If the demon wasn’t going to move, he would. Unfortunately, the demon was too heavy for someone with no physical body. If King Dice shifted too much he’d lose his pants and then the manifestation of his body would fall apart as well.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, I hope you enjoy the taste of no less than five strains of small pox and four variations of the measles.” The roommate strode forward, mop at the ready.

“Gentlemen please, I merely wished to see the Devil’s new squeeze is all. You’re quite a star down in Hell you know, and I must say it’s such a shame you lowered your standards for that ball of fur.” Both non-demons gained twin looks of surprise.

“You’re incorrect.” King Dice finally said after a moment of stunned silence. “Low standards would be Mangosteen. I’d place you at _no_ standards, before you even try to insinuate that you’re a better option than your boss. I mean honestly, who wears an orange ascot?” King Dice pulled once more, hoping to free himself but it was useless.

“Well now, I’m far better than that old fleabag. Do you have any idea how shoddy he is at his job? One moment hell is a proper place of torment, the next? It’s dressed to the nines and shining like it’s trying to one-up heaven! Why surround yourself with that when you could have someone like, well me!”

“If I wanted to surround myself with incompetence I’d get Mr. Wheezy shit faced and tell him to hug me.”

With that, the roommate snapped the mop out. The demon, distracted as he was, couldn’t quite manage to dodge. He landed on the floor with a loud thud. King Dice stood, brushed his suit clean and glared at the strange demon. He got the distinct feeling the man was flirting with him simply to see if he’d reciprocate.

“Now clean up your mess and get out.” He hissed, grabbing the mop and shoving it into the demon’s face. The two owners of the apartment blinked, and the demon was back in King Dice’s space, wrapping his arms around the violet suited witch in training. King Dice’s eyes flashed a dangerously darker shade of green than usual. The roommate, who’d jolted from the sudden movement, dropped the rake at their feet.

“I’ll get out once I’m done getting an eye full of you.” The demon dragged King Dice closer. King Dice, whose strength amounted to sometimes being able to lift a full thirty pounds as long as his cards helped support the weight, let the demon do so. The roommate, spotting a flash of pink, held out their hands and caught the lone die King Dice tossed their way.

“Don’t play games with people you can’t beat.” They said, and let the pink die drop to the floor in front of them, backing up as they did so. The die shattered, a portal ripped open, and Wheezy stepped out, filling the room with a haze of cigar smoke.

“Is this one yours?” King Dice gestured to the demon even as the man all but launched across the room, as far from Wheezy as he could get. Wheezy slid his hands in his pockets and gave King Dice a yellow-stained grin.

“Not for long. Chips, get in here!” He shouted, barely turning to face the portal that remained open. The demon held up his hands in a placating manner.

“Mr. Wheezy, I was simply making sure the boss’s wife was loyal.” They nervously laughed. There was the sound of a gunshot, then the demon’s head rolled off their broken shoulders, a poker chip embedded in the wall behind him.

“It’s a damn good thing we never held any hope for keeping that security deposit.” The roommate joked, moving until they could lean on King Dice. King Dice snorted.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” A pile of poker chips stuck his head out, hat sliding on the smooth surface but never falling off. “I got a bit excited is all. I bet I could get the imps to help clean up if y’all’d like.” He hopped in, giving the two Inkwell denizens a friendly nod. “It’s just, this is the second one is all, I wasn’t around for when the last fella tried stompin’ on boss’s tail. It’s a real hoot I tell ya!” He gave them a bright grin, Wheezy snorted.

“It isn’t that great, we’re cleaning house, not going on an adventure. Hey princess, give boss a few more days and he’ll be back for you.” With that, Wheezy turned to leave.

“Mr. Wheezy, I know for a fact you aren’t leaving garbage in my apartment.” King Dice spoke up, ignoring the nickname. Wheezy turned and looked at the corpse, and barked out a mocking laugh.

“What, too much for you to clean up?” He took a step, and the rake flew up, handle cracking into his face. There was cursing, there was laughter from Chips, the roommate said ‘oops’. The roommate did not mean that ‘oops’.

The body and mess were indeed removed after an impressive string of curses and one more near smack. As if to really rub it in, King Dices eyes remained their usual dark color, the same as when he wasn’t using his magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That demon didn't get off lucky, his physical body is what died, but his soul? Well that's back in Hell.   
> I'll be focusing on finishing up my other story now, So this one will be put on hold until Mage is completed.  
> I'd also like to thank everyone that's commented thus far, I really do appreciate it. Anyway, until later!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief peek into the daily travels the brothers have, another side of their job representing Inkwell, a meeting with foreigners, and a carnival. One step closer to the person smack talking Cuphead.

The boys had been traveling for a good week, being made of porcelain had its benefits. During that week, Inkwell all but smothered them with all the affection a massive landmass could. It also created whole new hill sides keeping hostile creatures away from the two. Topographers simply sighed upon finding the new landmarks, all map-makers had long since given up having accurate maps of the sentient chunk of dirt. Neither brother lingered on the Queen or what had happened in that building for very long, but both agreed that the next time someone tried separating them from Inkwell, that person was going to get their pancreas ripped out through their nose.

Neither brother wanted to experience not knowing how to find the other again. So, as they made their way to where Inkwell knew the naysayer had last been seen, they spoke about better ways of finding one another. Just in case, they’d told Inkwell. Inkwell had given Hell the most malicious look Hell had ever seen in its long, _long_ life. With two small vials containing a few drops of the opposite brother’s soul liquid tucked safely within their handles via chain, the boys quickened their pace. The soul liquid would allow them to pinpoint the others general direction, and considering the vials were suspended from a short chain, it wasn’t likely that the vials would shatter.

They’d come across a small town full of people talking about a new carnival, and, being young teens despite their high position, were instantly interested. Even better was the fact that the circus seemed to be in the same direction as the person speaking ill of Cuphead. Inkwell, deciding the boys were doing well enough, figured a single day wandering about there couldn’t hurt. Besides, as they traveled they’d stopped to help four feuding families, three lost merchants, and no less than thirty arguing strangers.

The Lady was a diplomat still, whose entire job was to prevent war, or anything that might breed war. And that included telling a porcelain green demon looking thing chasing after a porcelain woman that doing so was rude.

The demon had hissed at Mugs.

The demon had been seen crossing the horizon four seconds later by fishermen on the coast two days travel away.

Mugs had snickered as the woman profusely thanked Cuphead, believing the Knight to have been the reason the demon had been launched. Cuphead bashfully shrugged, internally pleading that she turned her attention back on her partner, a porcelain noble by the looks of his outfit. A few kisses on his cheeks, a sweet curtsy to Lady Mugs, and the four split up. That was one of many interactions on their week-long journey and they still had four more days to go until they reached the next town on the outskirts of the next city. Still, a Knight and Lady were well versed in having to walk for days on end. Or fly, in the case of the Eighth pair.

Sure, they could use a horse, but they weren’t fond of that mode of transport, at least not for long distances. Mugs always complained that it would damage the daintier gowns. The current one he was in, which was the one that had been snatched from Porkrind’s shop long ago, far closer to his usual gowns, nixed the idea of horses entirely.

\---0---0---0---

Being born to the King and Queen, the current ones at least, meant a few things. On one hand, it made them noble if going by any other nations definition. Mugs would indeed be a Princess in title, with Cuphead being a Prince. On the other, it meant meet and greets all the same. While they’d never inherit the throne—Inkwell didn’t work like that after all—they still were in a position where foreign nobles would hunt them down to prod at Inkwell’s longest running tradition. Some simply thought it wise to establish connections with the people that would, in their minds, ascend the throne.

After the first—and only—attempt at forcefully taking over Inkwell had resulted in mass slaughter of that nations nobility, and its best army, by one very enraged Lady and one blisteringly infuriated Inkwell, no one wanted a repeat. Some nations had set trading routes with the denizens, as Inkwell didn’t care about that part. Others had established that they’d never go near Inkwell even if Inkwell’s wealth was the only way to save themselves. Others simply went to see if they could poke weakness into the nation’s traditions. The reason was rarely the same, especially with how varied the people of the world were.

Inkwell attracted all sorts of myths that weren’t quite myths, and in turn, attracted people seeking knowledge. One particular country, founded solidly on biological statuses only their people had, was evidently the next nation to want something. They had claimed to the king and queen it was simply a visit to get to learn about their neighbors. The king and queen, reeling from how strange the envoy was, numbly let them go, unable to correct the prince before he’d popped back into his carriage and rode away to find the Knight and Lady. They’d then followed the rumor trail, and three weeks after scarring the queen and king for life, they found the children of the current rulers.

To them, the Lady and Knight were interesting. A few of the daintier sorts tittered and giggled while whispering something about Lady Mugs that neither brother could pick out. The more intimidating of the group simply cleared their throats to get full attention. They seemed to glance at Mugs only to look at him briefly, then focused all of their attention on Cuphead.

“Good afternoon, Prince Cuphead of Inkwell! I am the Prince of Sherwund.” The brothers glanced at one another, thrown back by the dismissal and odd title.

“Good afternoon? I’m… uh… _Sir_ Cuphead, and this is my—”

“Yes, of course, we’ve heard of the highest ranked omega your nation totes. My entourage can chat with her. We alpha’s have more important things to discuss.” Mugs gave off a quiet wheeze, Cuphead started screaming in his head.

Cuphead hated being called Prince. It wasn’t his actual title, no matter what those outside Inkwell thought, and it made him feel like a wimp that lazed about. But what he hated more was people who were disrespectful towards his brother.

The group of daintier animal sorts took that as their queue and swarmed Mugs, chatting quietly, but not enough that Cuphead couldn’t hear them. He honestly wished they would have.

“Oh what wide hips you have fair Lady! Have you had any pups yet?”

“She’s far too young to be having them though!”

“Nonsense! Why, my cousin Lydia had two healthy pups by thirteen!”

“Now, now, perhaps she hasn’t discovered a mate yet? It’s rather difficult to get a scent off of you fair Lady. We’ve never seen one of your species up close though, do forgive us.” One of the foxes pat Mugs on the shoulder gently, like one would a good friend. Mugs stared at them in a daze, eyes still wide, mouth only closed simply because it had locked in place from shock.

“What a healthy omega though! Look at how supple you look! Goodness but that corset you have will have to go when your alpha puts some buns in that oven!” One of the mountain lions nudged his shoulder with a furry elbow.

Cuphead would forever hate that group with burning passion for putting an image of his brother looking like one of the fleshier sorts he and his brother had been forced to watch give birth. He _really_ didn’t need an image of his sibling, who, being porcelain, didn’t even have the ability to expand in such a way, looking like he was smuggling a pumpkin under his gown. Mugs just answered with a quiet wheeze.

“Those omegas, what would we do without them though!” One of the apparent not alphas joked, leaning closer to Cuphead, and then loudly sniffing. Cuphead just kept screaming in his head.

“It certainly is wonderful to meet a part of history from a foreign nation. Inkwell, in case you weren’t aware, always has been the odd one out amongst the other nations. What with the odd diplomat method you’ve got. And but a single knight? Where is that knight by the by? Shouldn’t he be guarding your omega princess? Omega’s are quite fragile after all.” The prince looked around, as if the obvious Knight standing in front of him wasn’t standing in front of him.

“It’s interesting to hear you rely on an omega to settle disputes! Often their brains are too much on their pups and running from fights. Beta’s are best for settling things.” The prince finally looked at Mugs, but Cuphead got the distinct impression if he followed the man’s gaze, he wasn’t going to like where the man was looking. Inkwell, currently trying to figure out if the foreigners were a threat or not, was frantically nudging Cagney. Since, all it was getting from Cuphead was an endless high-pitched screech. Cagney, who had already been on his way to see his nephews, had to stop, burst out of the ground, and roll on the dirt for a good ten minutes in laughter.

“Just wait for her first heat! She’ll be wanting to jump any nearby alpha’s bones. Will you take over the diplomacy during that week?” One of the scrawnier people near Cuphead asked. Cuphead weakly shook his head, internal screaming only growing more horrified.

“Of course, the knight will, or he’ll be busy siring the next little prince or princess.” The prince remarked casually, scoffing at what had to be his attendant. “The prince is usually far too busy for that sort of drivel. You’d know that if you were in my position, we simply must focus on getting our nation to adore us.” He put his weight on one side, and Cuphead desperately hoped Mugs conversation was less horrifying.

It wasn’t.

“That’s right! Have you had your first heat?”

“I’m fourteen.” Mugs voice was high-pitched in his panicked state.

“Goodness! Well don’t you worry, it’ll be happening soon for you, here, let Gretta tell you how to get out blood stains and the like. Alpha’s don’t tend to be gentle during heats, our scent _drives them wild_.” One of the ladies said, leaning closer to him as if she was telling him a little-known secret. To him, she really was, he had no idea what she was talking about. He had no doubt they’d never interacted with a porcelain being.

Frankly he hoped they left soon. He wasn’t sure how long he could stave off his distressed and entirely horrified scream. Diplomat or no, nothing could have prepared him for this sort of interaction. He’d known other nations cultures were different, but at this rate he was willing to ask Inkwell to eat him if it meant getting away.

“Mugs, is the diplomat… Because that’s what Inkwell wanted…”

“Right, right, to prevent wars and such. It’s a lovely idea! Evidently it’s worked too!” The prince returned his attention to Cuphead. “I suppose not all of them are Omega’s, or they’re just born infertile. We rarely see you glass sort around our nation.” Cuphead could see why, he didn’t even have to question or spare a bit of thought to why they didn’t see non-flesh sorts often. Non-flesh sorts didn’t have whatever the hell a ‘heat’ was. Non-flesh sorts didn’t even carry children the same way flesh sorts did. Cuphead, wondering if he should tell the man that, didn’t get the chance. He got distracted by the group surrounding his sibling.

“Lemons are great for getting rid of stains, but you have to be careful. Oh, Betty why are you laughing?”

“I’m…she’s so frail looking!” Betty the sheep lightly lifted Mugs limp hand by his wrist. “I’m frightfully sorry, I’m simply trying to picture you full up with children. You glass sort always seemed so fragile, I’ve never seen one up close though! Now that I am, I’m wondering if your kind even have more than one!”

“We don’t…give—”

“What you should be focusing on is telling her a bit of caution! Now, when you get pregnant, your bust will expand too, what with needing to be able to feed your pups milk and such. I highly suggest wearing thicker garments during that time, it’s quite the pain to deal with. Not too heavy, they’ll be sensitive too. But don’t let anyone scare you, pregnancy is wonderful.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll do your alpha proud!”

“I don’t… we don’t do that sort of thing.” Mugs finally managed to squeak out, voice trying to regulate back to his normal tone.

“Oh of course! The pup could just drink out of that stuff in your head! Goodness I’ve no idea how I missed that!”

“Don’t worry darling I missed it too, how fascinating!”

“For all that is good in this world please stop talking.” Mugs hissed, mind endlessly chanting ‘mother would kill us if we started a war, mother would kill us if we started a war’.

“I get it! The armor! Prince I do believe that Inkwell’s prince is both the Knight and the Prince!” One of the boars near Cuphead spoke as if he’d just discovered the secret to the universe. The two groups paused and took in Cuphead’s armor.

“Obviously, you moron!” The prince snapped, shooting an indignant glare at the boar. The boar ignored the look. “So you still carry the family line on _that way_ huh? How interesting. We have that sort every once in a while, but usually it’s only cousins that produce children within family blood lines.” Cuphead felt a whole new level of terror and disgust swing into his already grossed out mind. Flashes of his mother looming over him with a history book brandished in her hand like a weapon nearly wiped out his vision.

He could almost hear her hiss ‘ _remember darling, hugging is fine, kissing in the green places is fine, but if I ever catch wind of you getting too close to your brother… I will find you, and I will bury your head so deep not even Inkwell will find it. If I get told I have to waste more soul liquid crafting another set of kids because you make people think you’re one of **those** , you had better hope Inkwell gets to you first. Just be glad they didn’t kick up a fuss until they caught that Lady with her Knights tongue down her throat or I’d have taught you two to fear any kind of shared contact longer than two seconds._’

He, terrified out of his little five-year-old mind, had readily nodded, and refused to go near his bother until Mugs, used to getting hugs and snuggling with Cuphead during bedtime when the two slept, cried.

Those were dark days of his childhood. Even worse considering as a child he’d had no idea what a throat was. Even worse than that was when his mother had doubled down and made him and Mugs fear romance entirely. A servant most likely intimidated into it had flirt with him after the ‘lesson’ and he’d just about thrown himself out a window to escape the girl. Mugs actually _did_ throw himself out a window during a similar situation.

Cuphead’s only response was a very sharp shake of his head. But the prince was looking away, back at his brother. His brother, who, having heard what the prince had said, was having childhood flashbacks of his own. Their mother was the reason Mugs had nightmares about books being used as hammers all because he’d mis-laced his corset and been deemed indecent by one of the tutors. She’d gone on to list everything that was currently indecent, including wearing dresses that showed any more than his ankle. Or anything low cut.

‘ _Inkwell will pick your gowns but it always has a few on hand, you pick the one that is most appropriate. You’re the Lady and you must look it. You must stand apart from the crowd. Ladies have never worn the current fashion of the time, neither should you. I’m not going through the hell that is child crafting again just because you showed a bit too much leg, do you hear me? By Inkwell it was misery doing it the first time.’_

Frankly, Mugs was scarred enough as is, he didn’t need the flashbacks to darker days. He certainly didn’t need a strange foreigner to spread the word that he was going to get pregnant by his own sibling. So, fear of their mother catching wind over-riding any horror, he opened his mouth to tell the man off.

“Where are my manners!” The prince exclaimed, looking aghast all of a sudden. He clapped his hands, waving his party closer and motioning for one of the attendants to grab something from their carriage. The thing that had made the brothers stop in the first place.

“Your parents were indeed kind in giving us fair gifts to bring back to our country. Of course we’d never expect traveling nobles such as yourselves to carry gifts, we did sort of just drop in after all. But we do have some special gifts for you.” He gestured for one of the women to hand over a cold tray of what looked like oysters to Cuphead. Cuphead, finding it entirely odd considering he couldn’t eat meat of any kind, soul liquid didn’t have the strength to break down anything fleshy after all. Breads and fruits and such were fine, but then again, these people thought he was some sort of alpha. He wondered if Inkwell was the first country they were visiting, and wished they’d gone to other places before Inkwell.

“Excuse me but—”

“Now, don’t worry, these have been magicked to stay cold. Think of them as…” The prince glanced at Mugs hips again, Cuphead’s internal screaming grew to a fever pitch. “practice for when the inevitable happens.” The prince waggled his eyebrows at Cuphead. Cuphead, having had to sit and watch no less than ten women give birth so ‘he’d never want to touch a woman ever in his life and he’d be properly dedicated to being his brother’s shield’ only barely got the innuendo. Though, being fair to his mother, it was mostly due to Elder Kettle that he knew a few of the dirtier double meanings. Cuphead wished he didn’t get the innuendo. Cuphead hated whatever country the man had come from with great passion.

“Goodness it seems we have a failure to communicate!” Mugs spoke up, clapping his hands, a wild sort of desperation in his eye.  The women around him shushed him, and Inkwell felt its’ Lady’s mood go from desperate to not start a war to desperate for them to swing at him so he could have a reason to tell Inkwell to launch them.

“Quite the voice you’ve got, omega!” The prince drawled, giving Mugs a disdainful look. “Considering the lack of throat… I feel some pity for your future alpha, a throat is quite useful for more than—”

“Interrupt me again and I’ll treat it as a slight against me, one of the only two people standing between your painful death via land you are currently standing on.” Mugs voice was far more firm. Cuphead felt Inkwell perk up. “I am not an omega or whatever that is, I’m certainly not going into any sort of heat, _whatever that is_. If you ever try to insinuate that I’d ever create a child with my brother of all people I’ll have Inkwell launch you so high your own parents will be able to watch you turn into a fine powder in the atmosphere.” Mugs, despite being shorter than the foreign prince by a good foot, had the man shrinking back away.

“Now, if you wanted to do a meet and greet, that’s certainly fine, but.” Mugs strode up to the Prince, those around the man far too stunned to even reach for their weapons. “If you go around talking like that to any of Inkwell’s people, I swear I will find you and no force on this planet will keep me from bashing some common decency into your skull.” He hissed, glaring at the Prince. War be damned, if their mother heard the things this man was saying about them she’d come after them herself. Horrid rumors were what ruined the last Lady and Knight before them. War, their mother would forgive eventually, rumors of what took down two other Ladies? Not a chance.

Cuphead secretly hoped the prince would swing at his sibling, give him a legitimate reason to stab the guy. It would take weeks to get the images he now had out of his head and he was _bitter_. His only solace was that Hilda had long since been dealt with and the star piece still floating in his head kept potential nightmares away from the new nightmare fuel.

The prince merely muttered a quiet ‘oh’. Cuphead, always in tune with what sort of intent people were directing at his brother, began internally screaming once more. He highly doubted the man was suddenly interested in his brother’s dress. And Mugs didn’t have any shiny weapons for the man to gain such an interest in.

Cuphead decided that meeting foreign nobles was the absolute _worst_.

\---0---0---0---

The good news was they didn’t start a war.

The better news was the prince had suddenly been far more interested in listening to Mugs than he had before. The best news was that after learning about the difference in culture—and biology—they had continued on their journey to explore Inkwell instead of following them. There was now a day between the two, and the entrance to the carnival was right in front of them. If they never saw the now properly informed carriage of oddities again it would be too soon.

They looked around from the entrance, taking in what they could see from their vantage point. The streets were full of brightly dressed guests. Children darted around, eagerly going from stall to stall. Mugs had been tempted to beg Inkwell to let them wear less obvious clothing so they could act like the young teens—or children by porcelain standards—they were. Ultimately, he figured it was more fair to stay in proper attire. Simply because they were actually on a mission. Sure, they’d go through the place on their way to the other side, into the city, but they wouldn’t linger. Not with someone spreading rumors that Cuphead was bad at being a Knight.

The boys, having enough of simply taking in the sights, glanced at one another, and with thoughts of putting even more space between them and their first ever foreign noble interaction, they headed into the fray.

\---0---0---0---

So much was going on around them, hardly anyone noticed the Lady and Knight. The two easily made it halfway through the festive area before something stopped them. Or, more accurately, someone.

A red and blue clown, more specifically.

The man had floated down from the many balloons dotting the sky, daintily landing before the brothers with a flourish. He held up a finger, asking for a moment of their time, then, whipped out a balloon, and began shaping it. Within a minute he had a sword shaped out, which he promptly handed over to Cuphead. Then, from behind his back he pulled an entire bouquet of balloon flowers, bowing while presenting it to Mugs.

“Quite the pleasure to see Inkwell’s finest enjoying our hard work! Beppi the clown, at your service!” The clown gleefully tipped his hat towards the two. “What catches your fancy? The carousel is always a fan favorite, but perhaps you’d like the Ferris wheel?” He gestured to the massive machine slowly spinning behind him, hand waving over the carousel as it played a merry tune overheard even over the crowds. Mugs gave him a weak smile.

“We’d love to, but we’ve got a rumor to take care of and unfortunately we can’t stay for very long.” He gazed at the Ferris wheel, thinking that at some point the carnival would return, so if the two couldn’t ride the rides now, they’d eventually be able to later. Beppi gasped dramatically, draping himself across Cuphead’s shoulders.

“Rumor? Be still my air-filled heart, what dastardly fellow has Inkwell in a fit?” Cuphead snorted.

“A rude gentleman or gentlewoman has decided to spread fibs that I am a sham of a knight!” Cuphead decided to play along with the silly speech. Mugs quickly took up the joke and followed along.

“Yes, good sir, someone has seen fit to insult my brother dear and it simply breaks my heart!” Mugs clasped the flowers to his chest, batting his lashes and giving a mournful sigh, pressing one of his hands to his cheek. Beppi reared back, tumbling into a backflip.

“How heinous! But, I’ve got just the thing to best those rumors, if you’ll spot me a bit of your time.” The two glanced at one another and nodded, eager to see what the clown would come up with. A few of the other carnival workers got the attention of the crowd around the two, staring at their best clown, knowing whatever show he was about to put on was going to be good.

“Aha! Sir Knight! How foolishly foolish of you to fool around where any fool could swipe your fair Lady!” Beppi, true to his word, swooped in and scooped Mugs up, tossing the teen over his shoulder and leaping back. Cuphead brandished his balloon sword, giving Inkwell a joyful reassurance. Beppi snatched a nearby vendors balloons, then, as if gravity no longer worked on them, Beppi began to float up into the air, wagging his feet until he was swaying towards the central part of the carnival, right near the stage beside the Ferris wheel.

“I’ll show you who’s foolish!” Cuphead shouted so Beppi could hear him, voice full of stage flair.

“Oh goodness! Cuphead, save me!” Mugs daintily pressed the back of his hand against his forehead giving a token pat on Beppi’s back with his other hand.

“Come fight me if you want your Lady back!” Beppi wagged his feet harder, and the two outpaced Cuphead who was maneuvering through the amused crowd around him. Beppi laughed boisterously, and Mugs had to cover his mouth to hide his bright smile. A few onlookers nudged a few others, and soon Cuphead was within sight of the stage. Beppi, having had just enough time to tie the balloons around Mugs waist and suspend the Lady a foot from the stage floor. Mugs seemed entirely comfortable, floating as he was. He managed to pull one of the flowers from his balloon bouquet and let it drift down to a nearby child waiting in the crowd.

Cuphead launched himself onto the stage, easily leaping up high enough to clear the edge of the wooden centerpiece. He pointed the tip of the balloon sword at Beppi.

“I’ll show you what happens when a fool foolishly fools around with my Lady!” He declared, and when Beppi pulled a similar balloon sword from his sleeve, the battle began.

It was epic, one of the ages, people would talk about the squeaks for months after. The flips and leaps and similar, entirely unnecessary acrobatics, had the crowd cheering on their Knight.  Mugs forgot how much Cuphead had loved watching the court performers do their stunts. He entirely forgot Cuphead had managed to squeeze in time to learn a few fancier gymnastic tricks in between his other studies. Inkwell had a happy breezy wind filling the carnival up with even more merriment. 

Beppi put on a grand, and hilarious fight, squeaking like rubber every time he was hit. A surprise swing he didn’t block in time got through his guard, and the balloon sword squeaked against his chest. Beppi shifted just enough to catch the sword between his arm and chest, then stumbled back, dropping his own weapon. He cried out, seltzer water spritzing from his ‘wound’. Dramatically falling to his knees, he weakly reached out to the sky above, then flopped over.

The crowd cheered, Mugs clapped, Cuphead laughed.

All in all, it was a good start to the day, and endeared the people who’d witnessed the play fight to him.

\---0---0---0---

It took them another hour to escape the carnival. Mugs had wanted to thank Beppi for putting on a show, giving him a polite curtsy. Cuphead had been pat on the back by numerous citizens more than happy to express their enjoyment of the show of his skills. Even if the show had been just a show. The brothers made a vow to return to the carnival when they had a moment to spare.

However, while everything had been fun, Beppi had pulled them to the side of the stage before they left.

“Now I gotta warn you, that castle over that way got a new owner and a makeover on top of it. Word says a dame claiming to be the Lady has taken up shop and has some pretty impressive magic to back her words up. Maybe she’s the one talking ill about your knight in shining armor?” He’d ushered them away before crowd could swarm them too much.

So, with two people to hunt down and _fix_ , the brothers made the decision to head for the castle. One of the many left over from centuries ago.

\---0---0---0---

The man adjusted his jacket, wanting to look proper for his future meeting with the rumored Djinn. While speaking to an older woman, he’d learned that there was simply no way to become the Knight. Not unless he had powerful reality bending magic. While he didn’t have such a brand of magic, he certainly had knowledge of someone that did. Someone who was more than willing to grant wishes to anyone.

Polishing his monocle on his jacket hem, he stared up at the Djinn’s abode, and felt excitement build up in his throat. He knew of nothing more illustrious than the position of the Knight. The _child_ tromping around next to the dear Lady had no credentials, no finesse, thus, no reason to be near the Diplomat of Inkwell.

But he did, he was high-class after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dislike the A/B/O or whatever thing quite a bit. However I figured a world that has Inkwell in it would have a massive assortment of biology and such. Which includes this. Now, the reason I included it was because that really is part of the Lady's job. It isn't just getting pulled into crazy adventure. Diplomacy is a big part of the title as well. There are plenty of cartoons of the 30's that have animals in it, so I pulled from those for characters, thus, they ain't mine, nor will they likely reappear. There will be a few more shows of the other things the Lady does, but it will remain focused on the cuphead cast. (There is a cartoon with a bright green devil kidnapping a porcelain figurine and it is full of porcelain slaughter. I highly recommend going to see it. Because it's funny, it's called the china shop.)
> 
> Who could it be! Actually who could both be! Only four more bosses left! Yes, I know its technically five if you count Werner. I do not. He is so painful for me to write, there's simply no way I'm writing him. Doesn't help that I have no idea what he'd be in this AU either. So, four left. Which means 8 chapters left before the end.


	26. Lady Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devil got his own little chapter, but what about King Dice?

Luck was a thing that had been around for centuries. Always watching various games, giving the win to whoever was deemed more interesting. Or giving someone a spot of good luck in a deal. Wherever luck had a hand, Lady Luck was there, dishing out his magic and influence as he saw fit. Lady Luck, despite age, had only taken a physical form two centuries ago. He’d been tired of spreading himself out so far, and unlike Chance, he had no set rules locking him in a rigid position. It had only taken a brief thought to decide what form he wanted to be too, the thing both he and Chance had the most fun observing.

It had taken a full year to condense his being down to a single point. A single die, with purple pips to ensure no one mistook his form for something low class. That left the rest of his magic to condense into a manifestation. Simply because hopping around felt stupid to him, and he did enjoy how the people dressed themselves. It had taken another year to figure out how to use his magic differently, especially with his own trait affecting him.

Chance had teased him endlessly about it, telling him he was better off letting his physical form go and returning to the spread-out form of the past. Full of spite, Lady Luck had worked twice as hard to reign in his magic. Finding a skilled tailor to loot from had helped as well. He left a blessing of grand luck as payment, leaving before he could see the tailor get hired by a noble.

Inkwell was his next goal.

The land was full of oddities of every sort, sure to entertain and amuse him.

\---0---0---0---

Some would say Lady Luck was fickle, and Lady Luck wasn’t going to correct what wasn’t incorrect. He wanted amusement and drama and entertainment. He wanted something that would ensure he’d not fall into a bored insanity the way a few others like him had. Chance and him had relied on one another to remain stable. Had it not been for the other entity, Lady Luck was certain he’d have snapped ages ago. There was only so much a being in control of the potential outcome of something could glean joy from.

Before he’d taken the form of a die, he’d been scattered everywhere. After he was a single mass, his residual magic still prodded at happenings nations away. Chance had no problem with him declaring his decision to find a home in the oddest land in the world. It had only demanded he give it a piece of himself, something to help when Chance wanted Lady Luck to focus on a particular game. Thus, the creation of the card deck and the pink dice. The card deck allowed Chance to communicate with him and the dice allowed Chance to continue using Luck’s input on game outcomes. If the number rolled was high, Chance often nudged the game towards a person, if low, it was nudged the other way.

The first set of years of physical life were surprisingly nerve wracking. They were also the reason he’d gone from declaring himself Lady Luck, to calling himself King Dice.

People were quite greedy, and he’d known that. He simply hadn’t known how much.

A month into his journey to Inkwell, he had been kidnapped by a man desperate to use him to get out of debt. Any time he lost a game or had been spotted by his debt owners, he’d carve into Lady Luck, ranting about how Lady Luck owed him his victories. Lady Luck had only managed to escape after a month of being locked away, and only because Chance had stepped in. Lady Luck would never know why he hadn’t just given the man a bout of lethal luck, but he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that man again. Turns out, by sheer _chance_ , the man had run into the loan sharks coming after their dues.

Two months later, someone else figured Lady Luck would be the perfect companion for their newly built casino. They’d managed to talk him into being a manager, but that soon proved a horrible idea as well. Lady Luck couldn’t help his nature, his habit of influencing an outcome. People weren’t stupid either, they easily figured out that when Lady Luck’s eyes glowed that vivid green, the table was no longer a fair game. No amount of explaining how Chance also had a hand in how a game went prevented the patron from shooting him.

That time though, Lady Luck hadn’t forgotten about the environment. The chandelier had turned that patron into a puddle. He’d fled the scene, enraged that someone had the gall to ruin one of his only outfits. It was hard enough maintaining a form he wasn’t used to, it was even worse when his magic had no means of support. The clothes were necessary, and too much of a tear had resulted in him eating dirt far more times than he wanted to admit.

It was around the third time he’d been led into staying with a single person that Chance, tired of fearing for the single being it had known for as long as it had been around, brought up a name change. He had been “housed” in a castle with a king, bound by a barrier made by the queen. The king had wanted him around to ensure his country had the luck to prosper. Lady Luck had dearly wished he’d been able to get in contact with any of the deities of that land, to tell them to let the crops rot and disease fester. Instead, he remained a prized toy for the man, being dressed up in extravagant gowns and suits. Paraded around like a trophy.  Lady Luck, under the threat of death should anything befall the king or queen, had taken the imprisonment. He was immortal, not invulnerable.

Frustrated that Inkwell was merely a single nation away, he’d bided his time. Luck was fickle, but he was also patient. It took ten years of the king all but abusing Lady Luck’s tolerance of unwanted attention for Chance to build up enough energy for a truly horrifying incident to remove the king from the land of the living. The man was betrayed by his own wife, who, believing the king had cheat on her with Lady Luck, had pushed the king from a balcony during an announcement he’d been making. She’d then had the _unfortunate luck, by chance,_ to be standing on the single tile that was loose, and she too fell to her death. During the panic, Lady Luck left, but not before taking the kings title as one last spite filled jab.

King Dice stopped using his magic so liberally. Hoping to better hide his true self from those around him. And for a while, it had worked. He’d even managed to get to Inkwell, and that’s when he truly began to flourish.

Inkwell was odd, had customs he’d never heard of before, had a personality that had intrigued him. Inkwell had taken note of him the moment he stepped on its’ soil. He wasn’t surprised though, magic like his was hard to ignore. He was much like Inkwell in many regards. Powered by magic, immortal, but not invulnerable, and simply interested in watching those around. Inkwell had greeted him by sending the Knight and Lady at the time his way, to see what his intentions were. It was more than willing to launch him into the sun had he been a threat to the “cute, tiny things building cute things on it”.

A chat that lasted an hour later, and he was free to explore to his hearts content. The Lady had warned him that Inkwell was home to countless dangerous and odd things, and that if he wanted to not get torn to shreds or eaten or possessed, he’d want to stay alert. The Knight had scoffed, telling his sister that Lady Luck was plenty capable, not to mention, the face was usually the last place anything tended to aim as it was too small a target. King Dice, unamused, had ensured the man lost his next game. It wasn’t his fault the next game ended in a lethal manner.

Inkwell hadn’t taken kindly to that, but it couldn’t pin everything on King Dice, so it had warned him.

“ _Find a thing to do, and do it. Don’t think I won’t follow through with ending you. Those are my children you cursed after all. Had it been my Lady that had died I’d not be warning you. You’d be dead.”_ As if to solidify the threat, the ground had lurched under his feet and he’d been impaled by a stray branch.

Needless to say, after covering the gaping hole with Chance until he could find a tailor or some way of mending it, he’d gone hunting for something to occupy his time. He wanted something that let him explore, something that let him learn new things and test his own magic, perhaps even expand it.

Luck was a part of many things after all.

King Dice followed suit. He’d found lodging with a small family for a few years, enjoying helping the family have luck in many small ways. The woman demanded he call her “Ma”, and so he gained a parent of sorts, even if it was via forceful adoption.

Luck was fickle, but he wasn’t cruel. The woman who took him in had simply believed him to be a traveling witch. So when he used his magic to give her hand a bit of luck with adding spices to a new meal, she’d merely thought it sweet. The husband found a spot of luck with his work as a shoe-maker, suddenly having more customers, and more income to support his family of five. During King Dice’s time there, he’d learned how to make shoes, which was a great help in learning how to be even more dexterous with his hands. The children taught him how to sew, teasing him over his habit of getting tears in his suits.

He left that family after giving them with a single pink die that ensured the household found constant good luck. His method of repaying them for taking a stranger in. Interested in finding out how to do even more, he’d found work in various shops of all sorts. Chance had found it amusing, watching him grow more and more elated with every new skill he learned. Then, King Dice had met the singer. King Dice only heard the woman sing but a single note, and fell deeply in love right then in there. He’d fallen for the way she sang, the way she used her voice to entice in ways he thought only sirens ever had.

He wanted to learn how to sing like her. So, he’d used his magic to its fullest to ensure she agreed to teach him, and show him to her friends and fellow singers. Between her smooth alto and one of the other’s bright tenor, he learned how to sing. He’d even been able to perform.

That’s when Lady Luck fell in love with the stage, and watching people interact with him. He adored how they loved him not for being Lady Luck, they had no way of knowing that’s what he was after all, but because he was a good singer. He’d found a good bit of work in a few bars and high-end restaurants with his voice alone. Chance teased him endlessly for how deeply he loved being wanted in ways he’d never been wanted before. For a while, he sang wherever people wanted him to, sometimes being able to sing with those that had taught him. He sang for a good thirty years, loving every second of it.

 Lady Luck had always been called on to ensure someone won a game so they could get something they wanted. Lady Luck had always been called on by folks desperate for more money, or the luck that would ensure their life was spared. Lady Luck had grown bored with the predictable wants of mortals.

King Dice was called on to sing and entertain people simply enjoying an evening meal. King Dice was called on to give advice using the knowledge he’d gained over the years from all the places he’d worked. King Dice had never enjoyed something more.

However, after the singer that had introduced him to singing had died, he moved on and stopped singing on stage. She had fallen to a disease not even his luck and his pleas to Chance could keep from killing her. A part of him had been afraid he’d get sick of singing, or people would get sick of him. Especially as the singers he knew from before died or stopped, left forgotten by new trends. So, he’d wandered until he’d found out about magic.

Now, he knew about his magic, he knew about Chance’s magic, and he knew that theirs wasn’t the only magic out there. He’d seen it in action plenty of times. What he didn’t know was that there were schools out there that would teach people how to use the residual magic in the air or within themselves. Interested in seeing if he could, he first practiced with fire. Seeing if he could call up a flame to light up a candle.

He burned off his eyebrows.

But he’d done it, and so, after waiting for his eyebrows to regrow, he’d gotten advice from some of the remaining singers from his past still around and had gone for one of the better schools.

He’d found a roommate in a curious being who’s face he could never see. They were entertaining in different ways. Despite clearly being afraid of death, the roommate had the rather nasty habit of finding dangerous things to take into the apartment, or summon into the apartment, or bring out of the apartment in the case of an incident that actually went down in the building’s history.

The school was six years of study, and he was oh so close to graduation. It was right in the beginning of that year that his roommate had found an old book that spoke of how to summon the king of all demons. King Dice had given his roommate a dead stare.

Lady Luck was fickle. Lady Luck wasn’t cruel. Lady Luck was also a firm believer that whatever befell a person as a result of their decisions was entirely on them, and he was far from interested in lecturing an adult. That is, until the roommate had decided to use a piece of King Dice to “really entice the fella, you know they always say Devil has Lady Luck on his side and never loses a game because of that.” Then, with a teasing laugh, they’d curb stomped caution, spat on its pathetic remains, and summoned the beast before King Dice could smack them.

Lady Luck had never cared about courtesy, believing the fact that he gave a person a game was nice enough. King Dice, surrounded by people that taught him being polite was great for various reasons, was quite different.

Lady Luck would have pointed to the roommate and let them get slaughtered. King Dice didn’t want to pay for the apartment on his own, and couldn’t bring himself to hate the roommate. So, he’d grabbed the nearest plate of cookies.

“Pardon the rude summons, would you care for a cookie?” He’d said, sliding them into the circle without breaking the protective line. He’d hoped that Devil would be soothed by the offering and not commit murder. The roommate had followed up of course, seeing the blatant confusion on Devil’s face.

“You can’t offer him cookies without tea! Now how am I supposed to ask for what I wanted without being a fully proper host! Dammit… Give me a second to get the water going!” Devil had poked at the snickerdoodle, eyes wide with confused shock.

“If you even think of using your faulty fire magic to heat up that tea kettle I’ll bash whatever brains you have left in there out with it!” King Die hissed, storming around the circle right as a tell-tale flash of fire roasted the curtains clean off the kitchen window.

“Tea’s done!”

“ _I just got those curtains you leather skinned whore!”_

“King wait! I gotta make that deal!”

“ _Deal with him in Hell! I liked those curtains!”_

Devil watched the person who’d summoned him get bashed upside the head by the person who’d supplied the piece of body sacrifice the circle had needed. He munched on an oatmeal raisin cookie while waiting for the two to settle, loving every second of it.

King Dice was the one to offer the tea over as well, all while nudging his roommate with his shoe. His roommate had groaned, dragged themselves over to the circle, requested Devil give them the knowledge to pass their classes when it became necessary. Their robe had scuffed the circle, Devil had stepped out of the containment, not that it would have held him anyway, and shook the roommates’ sleeve.

Thus, began the next phase of King Dice’s life, and the current phase. Sometimes he’d wonder if offering up a being who worked on a ‘give and take’ basis had been a stupid move. Then he’d watch as Devil stumbled over odd compliments and silly attempts at flirting with him, and decided no.

It was simply good luck he’d done it.

Lady Luck was fickle, often changing his mind at the last second just to see someone previously bragging be forced to return their winnings. Lady luck wasn’t cruel, always readily giving good luck to the odd stranger who looked like they needed it here or there. Often following strangers to hear them weep with relief upon finding out about whatever good luck befell them.

King Dice, standing beside Devil, laughing as a prideful poker player lost everything with a flick of the dealer’s wrist, was fickle. King Dice, watching a woman whisper a word of thanks to Lady Luck every time she earned a few more chips than before, glad she’d have a chance of paying off her late husbands’ debt, tapped the machine as he passed by, he wasn’t cruel. The cry of surprised happiness was worth the whisper of ‘softie’ from his familiar.

King Dice, leaning against the Devil as the beast quietly purred away on the couch, sang a tune he’d not sung in years, believing the woman whose voice he’d fallen for would love how her song was being brought to life once more. King Dice felt the tail curl around his waist gently, happily, and wondered which of the two of them had deserved meeting the other, then figured it was a combination and decided he’d gladly take what had been given to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapters with King DIce, and three more with Lady Mugs. Then, I'll be working on new stories. New drabbles too! Got a whole new AU in the works, and I'm super excited for it. I already have a couple drawings done for concepts of it. My sketchbook looked like a loon violently threw up imagination all over it. 
> 
> Lady Luck, doling out judgement that would make karma blush. Does King Dice always choose people who are nice to give good luck too? nah, but thanking him even if it isn't him consciously affecting your luck might lean him towards giving you a nice win or two. He does like it when someone is polite, after all.


	27. Baronless? Try getting a Baroness!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That last chapter was more an intermission, bu now, we're back on track. A baroness is in our sights.

Inkwell had been around for over two-thousand years, which meant the land was covered in remains of the past just as old. For outside nations and history buffs, it was a gorgeous collection of eras. Many of the old castles showed just how little people worried about war. Outside nations had castles with thick walls, narrow windows, and battle scars. Inkwell’s castles were often used by writers when designing fairytale scenes. Often the castles were built for markers and as symbols of larger cities among the tiny towns scattered all about the land.

The castle where the King and Queen resided was the only one that featured thick walls. Though even then it, being near the center of Inkwell, was made with the idea of withstanding the test of time more than anything else. No one truly feared war on Inkwell, simply because the single time there had been a war before the first Lady was born, it had lasted right up to the moment where one of the warring families decided to dig into Inkwell. Inkwell, not taking kindly to someone prodding it and not to get to any caves, devoured the offending family. It was still written in the books as a warning. Painters of the time depicted the land tearing open in one of the first true shows of its’ power and sentience ever recorded. The other family, fearing they’d be next if they continued, promptly made peace with the remnants of the opposing family and vowed to never take up arms on Inkwell soil again. Countless other families did much the same.

But words never really lasted, and so, the Lady was born, with Inkwell believing a neutral being would prevent any nasty battles that Inkwell simply didn’t want on its fields. Centuries later and the tradition continued. It was much the same for any who believed covering Inkwell’s forests and fields with development. Paved roads between cities often fell to Inkwell’s spiteful temper, so cars were rarely seen outside compact city limits. If someone tore into the forests too much for Inkwell’s liking, or took a tree it was particularly proud of, it ripped the offending building apart, even if the building was occupied at the time.

Some outside countries wondered why Inkwell still held onto the tradition of the Knight and Lady, believing it to be pathetic or weak or silly. Those same nations also _curiously_ refused to say that stuff on Inkwell soil. Inkwell’s people were far too proud of the tradition—and used to it—to really care about changing it. Besides, when the next Lady and Knight were being born and raised, police forces roamed about, laws were still used and enforced. The citizens liked the system, often hoping the Lady would wander through so they could settle things properly even when police were available at the same time. Many used the sibling pair as an example, though more used the Knight than the Lady when it came to attempts at taming children or giving them role models.

“The Eighth Knight always spoke of patience, and he always managed to get what he wanted in the end or realize he never needed the thing in the first place, be like him!”

“The Seventh Knight was a raging bastard, if you ever treat your sibling like that I’ll do to you what Inkwell did to that invading army.”

“If you want that treat, you’ll have to be like the fifteenth Knight and be quiet while we’re in the store.”

As such, Cuphead wasn’t surprised when, while walking to the nearest castle Beppi’s pointing had turned them in the direction of, he was stopped by a few people wanting to either ask him questions or use him as an example. Mugs found the young girl demanding his brother teach her own brother a lesson in sharing particularly adorable.  Cuphead figured it would be around the time people would start believing they could rely on him. It had been quite a ways into their first trip around Inkwell after all. Most pairs often started getting feedback on how the people thought of them right around the end of the first circuit. The fact that his was so positive told him his mother was probably satisfied, and that was all he needed to make his day better.

A few adults however, were whispering among themselves about a false Lady, and some would turn to look at Mugs in suspicion. Mugs, in turn, decided he hated whoever was stealing his title even before he saw them. The fact that this person had people actually suspicious of him despite the fact that his baby pictures were in the papers got under his porcelain far more than he’d ever admit. Whoever it was had to have quite the magic in order to get people even remotely thinking. He wondered if it was a bunch of necromancers trying to lie to get something they wanted by giving their magic to a single one of them.

He wasn’t too worried though, no one outdid necromancy like the Lady of Inkwell.

\---0---0---0---

It took barely any longer than a day and a half to reach the castle. It was actually far easier to realize something was amiss than they’d thought it would be. The castle, for one thing, looked as if a bakery had projectile vomited its brightest colors onto whatever the walls had once been painted. Walking around the outer walls were what looked like sugar beings, some of the rarest beings to find.

Porcelain beings could live for centuries easily, but sugar types often only lasted a few years at best, right along side the bug species. They were also highly susceptible to rot, so the fact that they’d all chosen to stay near a swamp of all locations just added to the confusing scene. Still, they had a job to do, or, Mugs did. Cuphead was of the belief that lopping the head off the false Lady and being done with it was the best option. Mugs though, Mugs wanted to see just why someone would lie about being a Lady.

Plenty had done it over the centuries. Believing that the job simply meant being good at talking and settling disputes. Others with some necromancy under the belt would revive a body or two more than the norm and suddenly believe they were Inkwell’s child.

None of them ever lasted very long.

Either Inkwell dealt with it or the people who didn’t take kindly to liars and false Diplomats would. This time, the Lady himself was fixing the problem, and he intended to use his first ever identity theft to learn more about why anyone thought it a good idea. The more he knew, the more of a deterrent he could craft up.

\---0---0---0---

While they made their way thought the town, the brothers managed to get the attention of a few stray lollipops. They were pointed in the direction of the castle when they asked where to find ‘Lady’.

“She’s always in the castle of course! What self-respecting Lady would ever leave her home domain?” Mugs had smiled politely, and immediately power walked towards the castle. Cuphead dutifully followed, wondering just how angry his brother really was. It was always hard to tell, even with knowing Mugs since they were tiny babies. The frosty glint to his eye spoke volumes, but even that could be the tip of the ire-berg.

“Lady Bon Bon is so wonderful. You know, because of her, my grandmother is still around! Do you know how rare it is to have a grandmother?”

“Lady Bon Bon is so pretty, and strong! Why, did you see how she shot that rude fellow proclaiming she was a false Lady? So majestic.”

Mugs smile stayed exactly as it was, but the soul liquid in his head began to solidify into a block of ice. Cuphead wisely stayed an extra foot away from his frosty brother.

Upon reaching the castle gates, which were open to anyone wishing to walk through, two guards dressed in solid sugar armor gave the two a suspicious gaze. The brother’s weren’t too surprised, the odd hate Sugar sorts had for Porcelain types—not too odd if asked by any though, it mostly boiled down to sugar types hating that porcelain types lasted so long despite sometimes being less durable than sugar types—was well known. Still, the friendly smile Mugs had and his gown did what it was supposed to do, and fooled them into thinking he wasn’t on a war path.

Past the gates they were directed towards the center of the courtyard where a woman in a heavy looking dress merrily strolled around, fixing the rot on fellow candy creatures with a wave of her dainty hand. Her soft looking pale pink skin and lanky limbs spoke of her taffy lineage. The moment she spotted Cuphead and Mugs, she stopped what she was doing, and Cuphead instantly went alert. Though her features remained soft and inviting, her intent towards Mugs was _far_ from friendly. She approached the two on her own, and if Cuphead had been the average person, he’d have immediately been suspicious of the lack of armored Knight following the supposed Lady.

“Why hello there! What brings you young children to my sweet castle?” She had a powerful voice, and had she not been poorly hiding her distaste for them, it might have been friendly too. Cuphead glanced at his brother, and promptly felt a wave of pity for Bon Bon. Mugs had _that_ face on. The face he made when he wanted to see how long he could string someone along with what he’d learned from his father and mother and tutors combined.

The Lady was a diplomat, her entire job being aimed at getting people to listen to her decisions and accept them as the correct thing to do. The Lady was supposed to be skilled in reading a person, reading between the lines of an argument and figuring out the best course of action to prevent anyone else trying to dig trenches into Inkwell. Inkwell found the denizens on it cute after all, so it wanted to keep as many alive as possible until they proved too rude or out of line, hence why it didn’t just kill everyone but the not so sentient animals. Mugs was raised by two people who had seen three Ladies and met all three. Mugs was raised by a duo who’d forego anything to ensure they never had to work the Kilns ever again. Mugs may have been new at what he did, but his teachings had been honed to a fine point based on what his parents had known about what was truly useful for a Lady to have. Bon Bon didn’t stand a chance.

“Gosh, you really are pretty! I’m terribly sorry, I’m just…” Mugs paused to fan his face, cheeks tinted a sweet sky blue in embarrassed excitement. “I’m such a fan of the Lady. Ever since my mother taught me about her and all the amazing things she did. It’s just,” He scuffed his heel in the dirt, though the action was hidden under his skirts, the motions were still plainly obvious. “I heard she was nearby and I got so excited.”

“Oh?” Bon Bon lost some of her hostility, taken in by the adorable sight.

“Goodness just listen to me rant, what would mother say!” Mugs pressed his palms to his cheeks, as if trying to hide his flushed face. A few swiss rolls cooed.

“Darling there’s no need to be embarrassed! Why, I find it admirable that you even got dressed up!” Bon Bon, thought Cuphead, was the single most unlucky being on the planet right now. She evidently thought Mugs and him had gotten dressed up like a couple of kids celebrating their favorite idols. When she looked at him, he assumed the grumpy older brother stance, crossing his arms across his chest and huffing.

“If you don’t mind me asking, could you tell me how you knew you were Lady Inkwell?” Mugs pressed his hands together, giving her a pleading look. She returned his look with a bright laugh.

“Why, right at the moment I brought back my uncle! Did you know that down my family line was another Lady? The fourth one to be exact!” She leaned in, like she was about to tell a secret. Cuphead scratched at his gambeson, acting like it was uncomfortably tight around his arms. Mugs leaned closer too, as if enraptured by her every word. Both knew there indeed had been a sugar Lady and Knight, but, they’d lasted only a short while until a flood had washed the Lady into a river and she’d melted away. It was a shame too, she’d been quite good at her job. And the sugar Knight had been decent at protecting his sister as well.

“So, it’s a family line thing?” Mugs asked, tilting his head cutely to one side, the ribbon gifted to him from Hell shimmered red in the light. Cuphead got the impression that whatever magic was in that thing, or perhaps even Hell itself, was listening in—and found the current situation _hilarious_.

“Indeed!” She clapped her hands together, smile sweeter than the cake dress she wore. Mugs hummed in a puzzled manner after a moment of ‘admiring’ Bon Bon.

“Lady Bon Bon, forgive my asking, but…Where’s your knight?” It was right about that moment that Bon Bon grew suspicious once more. Unlike Mugs, she wasn’t nearly as good at hiding her thoughts as the true Lady. Even so, she pressed her hands to Mugs shoulders and gestured with one hand to the castle itself.

“I’m in it of course!” She said, smile slightly tighter.

“Really?” Mugs turned and went straight back for the entrance, as if he was going to take a good look at the castle from the outside. Bon Bon followed him at a casual pace, waving away a few hard candies. Cuphead lingered behind, watching her for any signs of sudden hostility. The fact that she owned a shotgun didn’t ease his nerves in the least. He figured hanging back was probably a terrible decision, and so, when Mugs cleared the gates, Cuphead was right beside him.

 Mugs, far more versed in reading expressions, knew Bon Bon wasn’t angry or worried that her ruse was about to be exposed. He would bet money that her true worry was that whatever he saw on the castle wouldn’t be enough to stave off any more of his questions. Not that he had any more, he got all he needed just by talking to her for a brief moment.

Stepping back out to survey the outer walls, Mugs hummed in confusion, then, after a minute or so of looking at the castle, he gave her a pout. She returned it with a pinched smile then, forced her reddish white magic into the land.

The ground near the castle shuddered, but not by Inkwell’s doing. The castle itself was the thing shaking the surrounding area, and to Cuphead’s blatant awe, it came to life. The gate twisted and bent, acting as the mouth, two of the windows on the rounded corners of the building blinked as the former stone castle heaved a great sigh. Bon Bon watched their reactions from the corner of her eye, and while Cuphead’s was amusing, Mugs expression… unnerved her. The moment the castle had finished its wakeup routine, Bon Bon got its attention and directed its gaze to the two children.

“Hello Sir Knight!” Mugs called out, raising his voice just a tad. The castle huffed a wave of sweet air into their faces as response. Somewhere behind them a candy floss drifted ten feet into the air before being lassoed by a licorice. Cuphead coughed, waving his hand in front of his face, he got the distinct impression he was going to be smelling like he bathed in icing for at least a week after this. Bon Bon brushed her ice cream cone hat clean of the bits of her chocolate hair that hadn’t quite dodged the wind.

“Could you tell me what Inkwell is currently thinking?” He asked it, and Cuphead more felt than saw the sudden drop in temperature around Bon Bon. A few other non-sweet types perked up, eager to hear what their home was thinking. Cuphead could have told them it was just cackling like mad. The castle shifted, then shook its head. Bon Bon’s face closed off entirely into a blank expression. Some murmured in confusion, well aware that the Knight could always answer that.

“Well, you know, just waking up makes a knight awful at listening and such!” Bon Bon tried, giving them a tight smile. Cuphead snapped his head in her direction, indignant glare in full force.

“Excuse you? No Knight can’t tell you what their pseudo parent is thinking!  I can tell you it’s laughing right now!” He hissed. Mugs, who stood beside him, mourned the end of his game. Bon Bon glared at him, the castle mimicked her far from sweet gaze.

“And you would know?” She asked him, though it was transparently accusing. More people began to whisper, and with their suspicious stares growing in number aimed at Bon Bon, she grew more hostile. Cuphead wildly gestured to his outfit and swords, expecting that to be answer enough. She put her weight on one leg, popping her hip out and assuming a haughty stance.

“A child wearing something anyone with enough money could get at the store is going to tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about? How rude.” She drawled. Cuphead’s jaw dropped, cheeks flushing an angry red. Mugs rested his hand on his brothers’ face, forcing Cuphead to close his eyes. The Knight squawked in indignation.

“Forgive my brother. You see, he’s not fond of slander. But that’s beside the point!” Mugs mirrored Bon Bon’s stance easily. “The Lady can hear Inkwell as well, she is its’ child after all, even if it didn’t bring her to life. Surely you’ll be able to tell me?” If Inkwell had a body and was standing next to them, it would be pointing obnoxiously at Bon Bon and laughing. Bon Bon reared back as if slapped.

“Of course, I can!” She shouted, brushing her hands down her skirts. “But I’ll do one better, everyone knows the Lady is the most powerful necromancer in the land after all, and tell me…” She paused, then, the air around them stilled. A barely visible pulse of the same reddish white magic from before began to ripple out around her. The ground shook not a moment later, it was only a few seconds of her shoving magic into the land for the first cracked sugar hand to burst from the suddenly wet ground. Cuphead bit back a curse when a hand slammed down on his ankle, but no matter how much he pulled, it didn’t let go.

“Son of a—”

“See? I doubt you’ll meet a single person that can match what I can do!” Bon Bon raised her nose into the air, surveying the nearly seventy newly risen sugar beings hauling themselves from the marsh. The castle gave the boys an equally smug expression. Mugs returned it with a saccharine grin.

“Miss Bon Bon, I’ve decided.” He started, Inkwell immediately perked up, coming to full attention, and drawing Cuphead’s own attention towards his brother even as the air grew heavy. “You’re probably the first Sugar necromancer I’ve ever heard of, and because of that, and because I think these people truly do need and want you around, I’ll show you just what a Lady can truly do, as well as spare you.” Green and yellow lightning began to crackle along his body, arcing into the ground, cracking the hand around Cuphead’s ankle. Inkwell muttered ‘ohhhhh’ in Cuphead’s mind.

_“_ Do you know the difference between how people measure the power of the average mage and the Lady of Inkwell?” Mugs asked, that cutely curious tilt making its reappearance. This time though, Bon Bon wasn’t fooled. She scowled and shook her head. “They measure the average necromancer in terms of body count.” The sky above darkened, clouds above gaining a dangerously green shade.  Mugs irises gained an unnaturally bright blue glow. “They measure the Lady in terms of _area of effect.”_ With that, pulling enough magic to have Inkwell reaching for the cutoff between it and Mugs, but not enough for Inkwell to hit it, the air filled with a blinding burst of lightning.

Blinking spots away from his eyes, Cuphead decided that the next person claiming to be the Lady was just going to get pushed off the nearest cliff. Everywhere around them, bodies buried by the passage of time or by the living tore from the ground. Skeletons of every type latched onto the castle’s walls, pulling it into the marsh it had once been light enough to stay upright on. The people around who’d been watching the scene unfold would talk about it for weeks afterwards. They’d never heard a candy castle wail in terror before. Mugs never took his eyes off of the false Lady, clear challenge in his not so sweet blue eyes.

Bon Bon stared at Mugs in mute awed shock. Skeletons around them cackled at her blatant fear, half rotted bodies gave her rot-infested smug grins. Some of them formed a bridge between Mugs and Bon Bon, ensuring Mugs wouldn’t sink like the castle when he approached Bon Bon. Mugs picked the hem of his skirt off the ground just by an inch, then daintily stepped forward until he was right in front of Bon Bon. Despite him only coming up to her hip, she felt infinitely smaller than the child before her.

“Don’t mistake me not having my brother push you off a cliff into the ocean for acceptance of your continued fraud.” He started, voice light, eyes still aglow, sending a chill down her spine. “You help these people, and as Lady Mugs of Inkwell, I admire that. You can take any other title you want, there are plenty out there for you. But don’t ever claim to be the Lady again.” Though his tone wasn’t threatening, she felt it all the same.” With a final warning stare, Mugs nodded in satisfaction after she gave him a weak thumbs up, well aware there was not a chance in hell she’d be able to say or do anything to fix the situation.

The castle let out a shudder of terror as bony hands, half rotted and festering with decay, removed themselves from its’ walls. Pulling away and returning back to their graves once more. Content that they’d done enough of a show of force to properly inform those around just who the true Lady was. Nodding once more, Mugs let the souls return, shot a sweet smile at Bon Bon, wished her luck in acting as a protector for her town and castle, then casually walked out of town.

Content with knowing she’d never try lying again, or rather, be disillusioned into believing that just because there was a relative that was a Lady meant she became one as well, he and Cuphead aimed their steps in the direction of the city on the horizon. Bon Bon indeed never would say anything of the sort again, but she did take up the title of Baroness, deciding it sounded far better than Lady Bon Bon.

As the brothers headed in the direction of the person badmouthing the Knight, Mugs breathed out a content sigh. One down, one to go. In a far better mood than before learning there was a false Lady, he waited until the tips of the castle dipped beyond the horizon to talk.

“Goodness, I hope our next goal doesn’t require a lot of necromancy.” He tapped his nose, glancing at his brother from the corner of his eye, slight blush rising on his cheeks. “I might have done a bit of overkill there.” He let out an embarrassed laugh as his brother responded with a shrug.

“Oh but…” Mugs paused, a confused frown pulling his lips down. “For the life of me, I can’t remember why we’re heading this way… Can you, Forkington?” He asked his sibling, properly facing his metal brother and pausing his steps. Forkington, staring at his armor with a sort of awed but joyed expression, mutely shook his head in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no noble courts in Inkwell, so Bon Bon really didn't have a chance to be as cutthroat as her game counterpart likely is. That and when a person raises an entire swampy marsh full of corpses you didn't even know were there, you'd probably pack it in right there as well.
> 
> Now hang on... Something about that last paragraph felt a bit funny... Hmmm... Ah well, there are only two more chapters to Lady's side, I'm sure the answer will come to me before then. Or rather, next Lady chapter. since... y'know... Witch Dice is next... But he'll have to wait! Because I have a new story in the works and I want to get that ball rolling too. As well as poke at the drabble dump once more.


	28. Downsides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When dating someone, you get the good and you get the bad. Dating Devil is no different.

Dating the Devil had its upsides and downsides. The upsides were having someone else who enjoyed watching people dig their own graves and doing nothing to stop it. If King Dice had to give a downside, he’d easily be able to tell whoever asked ‘the odd seances I get pulled into now, and the priests’. Because really, those were two major downsides. Not enough to regret it, not even close, but it sure did make studying harder when classmates were tearing him from his own work so they could try their hand at talking to the dead.

If a necromancer wasn’t on hand, sometimes that was the only way for people to chat to fallen loved ones. Or, in the current situation, nastier undead. King Dice didn’t even know why the group around him _wanted_ to talk to unsavory sorts. But here they were, in a room, with Devil in the corner watching them all be stupid. King Dice had been manhandled into going, since, he wasn’t allowed to harm another student. The school blamed him on that summoner killed by the dipshit demon. He wasn’t surprised, but wasn’t happy. As such, he had tossed his glove onto the center circle where everyone else’s hands were and leaned back. His glove was _technically_ his hand after all.

One of the students near him claimed they wanted to have an exciting soul call, so they wanted him to be there. The belief had been that if Devil had been interested in King Dice, then perhaps others would as well. Devil was there to make sure the students didn’t full on die from whatever came out of the session. The school hadn’t said a thing about not maiming students though, so the two wouldn’t bother preventing a torn limb or two.

“Alright, attempt two!” One of the students declared, ever hopeful that something more interesting than a grandmother reciting her recipes would happen. The others, eager as well, once more began the chant, pushing their magic into the circle in hopes of calling something. King Dice poured a bit of his own, eyes green for a few seconds. He wished he could be like his roommate, sleeping at home.

This time, instead of an old biddy telling them she’d rip their reproductive organs out of their asses if they added a single ounce more butter than her recipe demanded, a creepy laugh rang out instead. Devil instantly perked up, tail growing still where it had been swaying in boredom.

“Abaddon?” He called out, voice curious. One of the students shouted, leaping from their chair as letters appeared carved on the table where they’d sat. King Dice stared at their hand, no longer in the circle, looked at the scrape that had appeared in the ring, breaking the line, and felt a headache build. The headache only grew when he realized the fact that Devil knew the entities name meant bad things. He went to rub his temple with his only remaining hand but Devil stopped him.

“Don’t move.” Devil hissed, glaring at something no one else could see. King Dice, as well as everyone else, froze. “What brings your lazy ass here Abaddon?” Devil continued, though this time addressing the unseen being.

“Answering a request of course!” A gravely voice helpfully supplied, right next to one of the girl’s ears. She shrieked in her mouth, but didn’t move. King Dice suspiciously noted that she didn’t seem overly put out over potentially dying. He didn’t think he’d ever understand adrenaline addicts. “They wanted a game, and I have one. Speaking of which, that really is the game. None of you can move, or I get to kill you.” King Dice gained an astoundingly unimpressed glare. Devil groaned.

“Wait, that’s one of the major demons, sloth, right?” A student asked, and were rewarded with clapping. King Dice’s expression soured further. He felt hands he couldn’t see brush against his lips, as if trying to pull them from the frown. Devil let out a guttural hiss, sounding like an alligator and sending visible shivers down a few spines. When they didn’t get offed for the motion, King Dice decided he was more lucky than he’d first thought considering instead of this guy, it had been Devil that had answered.

“Hey, hands off my man!” Devil demanded, the tip of his tail flicking in agitation.

“No need to fret, if he doesn’t move I won’t so much as smudge his eye liner.”  King Dice arched a single brow. One of the other students let out an excited squee.

“I told you guys bringing King over was a great decision.” They said without moving their jaw. Abaddon snorted, finally making an appearance. His ashen flesh stretched tight over his malformed muscles, large bat-like wings brushed against a wolf’s cheek and a bat’s nose. The demon’s thin lips were a scant inch from King Dice’s central dot.

“This is going to be quite the fun game!” Abaddon said, and thus, the game began.

\---0---0---0---

“This has to be the shittiest game I’ve ever been a part of.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s been an hour, Paul.”

“Yeah and? We haven’t died and this is way better than the time we had to banish a demon by singing as horribly as possible.”

“I wonder how that fella is doing actually.”

\---0---0---0---

“I have to be in bed in fifteen minutes if I want to have any hope of not being cranky in the morning.”

“I’m starting to see how this game could suck.”

“Really? Three hours in and you _just_ noticed?”

“You know, for having a demon right next to you lot you’re all really calm.”

“King Dice is sleeping with the king of you lot, as a side, congrats on getting the looker of the family!”

“That and I got the one that doesn’t come up with pathetic games.”

“Aw, babe!”

\---0---0---0---

“That’s it, I’m moving, I’d rather be dead than have to smell sloth sweat.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, he might be one of those gore lovers and if you stain my suit I’ll put a call out to the Lady just so he can bring you back and I can beat the shit out of you.”

“….Dammit.”

\---0---0---0---

“And really, the rules are horrible! Don’t move, but all of us except King and Lydia are breathing, which is movement. We can move our lips, and shake and not get speared or whatever… these rules are ass.”

“Excuse you. I’m sloth, laziness, be glad the others didn’t answer, greed would have had you at each other’s throats by now.” Abaddon grumbled, floating above the table casually. Devil let out a snore, having fallen asleep a good two hours ago. King Dice, sick of doing nothing useful, snapped.

“The more I think about the rules the easier this game gets.” He drawled, lifting his hand as if checking non-existent nails. Abaddon went to rip his arm off, only to find his hand frozen right above King Dice’s sleeve. King Dice’s grin spoke far more than words did.

“Ohhhh…. You didn’t move, your magic did. Since you aren’t flesh. Which means….” The bat whispered something under her breath, and all of their chairs began floating. Devil peeked open one eye, smarmy grin pulling his mouth up unnaturally. Abaddon stared slack-jawed at the group.

“On top of that, we technically could move, it just had to be small movements. This is sad.” The wolf howled with laughter, and yet, as if to spite Abaddon, didn’t move more than his lips and his chest only shook a bit more than it had been. The demon stared at the group, and then turned to Devil.

“What the hell happened to mortals?! They used to cower!” He whined, angrily gesturing to the group now floating in a circle around him. The bat was giving him the widest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen.

“They still do if you aren’t… well… you.” Devil replied, tone haughty.

“Jokes on you, you’re all still part of the game even if you leave the room. I’ll just follow you.” Abaddon had about four seconds to look smug before someone, King Dice wasn’t sure, increased Abaddon’s gravity and the demon got his head smashed through the table and into the floor over and over. King Dice wondered if all demons sounded like coconuts when hit on the head. Devil yawned, caught King Dice’s eye and nodded. King Dice conjured up a pink die, tossing it to the demon groaning on the floor.

“I tell you what, why don’t we play a game? Mine of course, because mine is better.” King Dice waved for the bat to put them down. She did so, so that it appeared as if Abaddon was kneeling before King Dice. Abaddon, looking no worse for wear besides a cut or three, reached for the die slowly, staring at it.

“What’s this game?”

“Easy, you roll, and if you get high, you get to live. Low, and Devil will take care of your expedited trip to Hell.” King Dice spoke plainly, and suddenly the room went silent.  Some of the students wondering if they’d be able to see the mashup of magic King Dice claimed he used.

“We’re the same strength, he can’t kill me just as I can’t kill him.” Abaddon smirked, tossing the die into the air, watching it land right by King Dice’s feet.

“How nice, but tell me,” King Dice carefully didn’t lean in, but he lowered his voice so Abaddon had to lean in, taking his gaze from the die as it rolled across the floor. “Are you luckier?” And before Abaddon could ponder what that meant, Devil’s pitchfork was slamming through his back, carrying his heart on its way out of his chest and into the seat right next to King Dice’s slightly tilted face.

“Darling I gotta tell you, I fucking love this game.” Devil gushed, tail wagging even as his pitchfork began radiating heat, searing the organ stuck on its’ center tine.  King Dice snorted, lifting his foot to press Abaddon away from him, not keen on having demon blood stain his nice suit. The wounded demon wheezed, flopped over, and was promptly swallowed by Hell.

Hell didn’t take kindly to a demon assuming its’ favored child was as weak as them. Especially not when they were within its’ area of influence. None would speak of what happened to Abaddon after being pulled back into Hell’s ‘tender’ grip. Some would outright throw up at the mere mention.

Never the less, the séance was declared a victory, a triumph, and all but King Dice agreed to try it again next Tuesday.  

\---0---0---0---

The other thing King Dice would mention, priests, wasn’t due to his distaste of preachy folk who got in his face.

It was because he was sick and tired of those preachy ass-kissers breaking into his apartment and waking him up with holy water spritzed in his face.

“Begone bringer of the Anti-Christ!” The priest shouted, having scaled the wall outside and broken into King Dice’s room via window. King Dice jolted awake, and the door to his room broke open via roommate wielding tea kettle full of boiling water.

“Purify this!” His roommate shouted, swinging the thing at the man’s head and knocking him out. As a secondary measure, they poured said boiling water onto the priest’s pants, entirely pissed off to have their morning routine interrupted _again._ King Dice groaned, newly formed body limp on the bed.

“Why do they say that? I don’t have a body.” He rolled himself to his feet, tossing the cross that had been flung in his face out the window. Devil shuffled in a few moments later, scratched his own ass a couple times, grabbed the man’s ankle with his tail, and dragged the intruder out.

“One more holy bastard does that and I’m finding their church and burning it down.” King Dice dabbed at his face with the parts of his blanket that were still dry. Devil burst into laughter, hearing his future spouse from where he was in the living room.

“Darling, just point me at it and I’ll take care of it. You should see the look on their faces when I stroll into their supposedly holy ground.” Devil opened the apartment door, shoved the barely conscious and burned priest into the hallway, and closed the door. King Dice shuffled out, lamenting at his smeared eye shadow but far too tired and in need of tea to care.

“They just get more creative every time. Next time I bet it’ll be from the ceiling.” The roommate griped, plopping the dented tea kettle back on the stove and refilling it with water. King Dice let his face fall onto the table, and heaved out a sigh.

If he didn’t love the beast currently draping himself back over the couch, he probably would have demanded space if only to ensure he would actually get peaceful mornings. But he did, so he’d deal with weird seances and rude priests believing a bodiless die could get pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cartoon logic works great when a piece of comedy needs for a king of hell to stroll into a church, poke fun at the pastor, stab a couple sinners, and walk back out. Two more chapters of King Dice after this, i'm surprised i managed to come up with enough between a student Dice and a devil with a crush. I do believe all that's left is graduation.
> 
> But seriously King Dice would string up whoever spread the rumor that he could even get pregnant. They should know better than to spread weird slander after all.


	29. Three Wish-takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Djimmi you fool! You utter fool!

Inkwell was silent, something it rarely did. It had gone silent around an hour ago, and the silence was beginning to pick at the Lady. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d _not_ heard Inkwell babbling about various things he’d long since learned to filter out unless the tone changed. Currently it felt like he was back in the Honeycomb Herald, and he didn’t like it. The other thing ruining his general comfort of the current situation was that every time he thought of his brother, a different face would pop up first. He wondered why he thought of a cup instead of what he knew his brother was.

Inkwell, taking the time to examine why it felt an astounding amount of rage, observed its children. It almost felt like it was missing something, but until it could figure out what it wasn’t seeing, it would continue doing as it had done for the hour.

Forkington followed along behind Mugs, sometimes staring hard at the Lady, other times, examining his armor. Which was another thing Inkwell didn’t like about its Knight. The Knight was too distracted, so much so that even Inkwell could tell. Finally, deciding a test was in order, it reached into his mind as it had always done.

Only to discover it couldn’t.

The air stilled, the animals in tune with Inkwell froze, and Lady Mugs ceased all movement. Forkington paused next to Mugs, resting his arm across the Lady’s waist.

“What’s wrong?” He casually tapped a finger on Mugs hip, feeling the outline of a corset under the fabric.

Both Inkwell and Mugs realized at the exact same time, a porcelain mother and father couldn’t craft a metal being. Elder Kettle was only related to them due to having raised his father, he wasn’t blood family. His soul liquid froze for an entirely different reason.

Inkwell let out a blistering shriek in Mugs head.

Somewhere out there, a Djinn in the middle of shifting his new porcelain cup paused his motions to wonder why he got the feeling his life was about to be cut astoundingly short.

\---0---0---0---

Mugs _carefully_ didn’t let his expression change any. Instead, he tightened his grip on his skirt, and gave his ‘brother’ a reassuring smile.

“I thought I’d forgotten something back there is all, sorry.” His voice shook, but it wasn’t enough to cause Forkington any worry, so he nodded.

“I’m sure you haven’t, did you remember what we were going to that city for?” Forkington didn’t seem to be wanting to let go of Mugs any time soon, something that Mugs wasn’t too happy about. Inkwell raged on in his mind, livid that something dared to try changing its’ reality. But it was far harder to change the memory and makeup of the child of a sentient nation than anyone could possibly fathom. There was no way to change and adjust everything without expending an impossible amount of magic, on top of at least a month of work.

“I…ah… did indeed!” Mugs perked up, using that as an excuse to step away from the false Knight. He set off at a quick pace, wondering if Forkington was used to traveling long distances in armor. “Come along! We should really hurry before we have to stop for the night.” He called behind him, keeping his pace quicker than usual. To his dismay, the metal being easily kept up.

“What did we need to do?” Forkington asked, striding right along side Mugs, his slightly taller form making it easy for him to brush his hand against Mugs wrist with every step. Mugs just kept thinking ‘he knows how he got here, we can’t hurt him yet,’ over and over. Inkwell held back simply because Mugs was correct, it couldn’t figure out where it’s true Knight had been spirited to. For now, they’d have to deal with the false Knight.

\---0---0---0---

Mugs wondered just how much had shifted as the duo made their way towards the city. The people that passed him kept shooting him worried or sympathetic looks and he had no idea why. If he could see himself though, he wouldn’t have wondered. His expression was tight, clearly displeased with the far too close stranger practically breathing down his back. Forkington had casually remarked about dirt or mud smeared on Mugs a few times, suggesting they stop so he could ‘look presentable’ when they finally got to the city.

He’d gone for the ‘I’ll just wait until we get to a hotel or something’ route. But, as he walked, with a river bubbling away in the distance, he got an idea. Breaking off the path, he made a straight line for the sparse tree line. Forkington stumbled, heavy boots loudly stomping to a halt so he could follow ‘his’ Lady. In Mugs mind, he asked Inkwell to call for Cagney, he’d need his uncle if he wanted to get away, but before that…

\---0---0---0---

Reaching the river, he called for a heavier tree line to grow, and much like it always had, Inkwell gave Mugs a healthy bit of privacy. What neither expected was for Forkington to push his way through the vines so he could join Mugs.

“Uh… I… need to clean myself.” Mugs hesitantly brushed at some dirt on his bare arm.

“Well of course, but as your knight I don’t think I should be letting you go too far out of my sight.” Forkington replied, looking entirely comfortable with sitting down facing the Lady and gesturing for him to do what was needed.

“Yes but, it would be quite improper for me to clean myself with you watching me, so…” Forkington nodded, turning so his body faced away. Mugs suddenly hated this plan, he hated it a lot. Still, he knelt down, pulling his gloves off so he could get his hands wet enough to scrub at the patches of mud on his arms.

“You’ve got mud here too.” Mugs jumped, flailing in an effort to not pitch face first into the water. He didn’t expect to hear Forkington so close to him. Forkington grabbed his shoulders, and that’s about the time Mugs realized Forkington had pulled off his gauntlets and gloves. His metal fingers scraped along Mugs shoulders gently while the fork shuffled and shifted until Mugs was stuck between Forkington’s legs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” He said, leaning to dip a handkerchief he’d pulled from only Inkwell knew where into the water. Mugs went unnaturally still as Forkington dragged the fabric across his exposed upper back, pulling the gown’s hem so he could dip further under the dress and reach whatever mud Mugs didn’t see. Mugs fervently wondered if this man had forgotten that the Knight and Lady were siblings. That went from wondering to just plain hoping.

He couldn’t wait for Cagney to show up.

\---0---0---0---

The two were at it for a short handful of minutes, and were now just waiting for Mugs to dry off. Or at least that’s what Mugs claimed he wanted to do. Forkington didn’t seem to mind either way. Forkington had tried starting a few conversations, but Mugs, entirely unfamiliar with the man, had barely managed to answer properly. Mugs had been hoping that Forkington might hint at what he’d done to trade places, because the only thing he could think about was reality magic, and that stuff was beyond rare. Only…

“Dear, if you could… hmm.. get anything you want, any wish you had granted, what would you want?” Forkington asked, raising his voice so he could be heard over the splashing of the river. Mugs and Inkwell both figured out just what had happened at the exact same time. That was also the moment Cagney burst up from the ground, looking frazzled. He scanned the two, as if trying to see what was so important that Inkwell had just about demanded he pause what he’d been doing to go help the Lady.

“Uncle Cagney!” Mugs cheered, immediately stepping closer. “You’re here! I guess that means you brought that new dress for me! How kind of you, just…” Mugs crawled over Cagney’s fingers, hiking his skirt up so he didn’t trip on the gown. Cagney, baffled at the tiny Lady’s actions, just let him. Cagney was pulled down close to Mugs by one of his petals, dutifully leaning so he could listen to whatever the child wanted to say.

“Put a barrier or something up between us, _please_.” The desperation in his dear nephews’ tone was enough for him to ignore how odd it was for a Lady to demand space between her and her Knight. Before Forkington could even open his mouth, vines were ripping up from the ground to come between him and ‘his’ Lady.

“Don’t worry Sir Knight, I’ll keep an eye on Lady Mugs as he gets changed.” Cagney reassured the man, then ensured there were no gaps in his wall, and focused on the now clearly panicked, scared child.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, keeping his voice as low as he could. Mugs sniffled, tears building in his eyes.

“That’s not my Knight. He’s not my brother.” Mugs gripped his bare arms tightly, not liking the fact that a stranger had touched him when his true knight wasn’t nearby. He liked the fact that he remembered his true brother’s name even more. Cagney stared at him for a couple of seconds, then released the biggest relieved sigh Mugs had ever seen.

“Oh thank Inkwell for that.” Cagney pressed his face into the dirt, so his words were muffled.

“What?” Mugs asked, he had assumed Cagney would be more upset than thankful. Cagney peeked at him with one clear green eye.

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” Mugs didn’t like how hopeful Cagney sounded.

“Ohhhh the things he did when you were recovering from that accident…” Cagney shuddered even as Mugs grew more confused.

“What did he do?”

“Kid...Nephew…Lady… There is _nothing_ in this world that’ll get me to tell you what he did, especially if you don’t remember it.” Cagney was so thankful that Mugs didn’t remember he just about sagged to the floor. For a moment, Mugs fear turned to confusion, but that moment was enough for him to focus on what he needed to do.

“Uncle Cagney, I’ve got to try finding a Djinn, do you know any on Inkwell?”

“A…oh that sneaky motherfu… uh… No but I bet your Aunt Hilda does.” Mugs frowned, unaware of ever calling Hilda Berg ‘Aunt’ before. He got the sinking feeling there had been more changes than he’d thought. But the fact that he’d been ‘adopted’ or had adopted Hilda spoke volumes more than he wanted. But really, just _what_ would prompt Hilda Berg and Cagney to adopt them. That, and Cagney’s willingness to believe Mugs with barely a look. His face must have been too clearly confused because Cagney, noticing Forkington getting impatient, spoke quickly.

“Just call her like you normally do, that star she gave you. Hold it up so she can see you need her but do it away from here. I’ll distract him for as long as I can.” He nudged Mugs away with one of his roots, ushering the young teen towards the city. Mugs nodded, giving him a worried glance that was returned with a sharp smile.

“Don’t kill him, he might be needed to fix this. And don’t get hurt, I don’t know him at all.” Mugs pleaded before he turned on his heel, and sprinted away. Cagney watched him carefully, waiting until he was covered by the trees. Then, he heaved himself up, and gave Forkington a cute smile.

“Well golly, it seems there’s been a misunderstanding!” He said, leaves on his stem daintily pressing their tips together.

“What?”

**“There’s been a mix-up in reality**.” Cagney’s features sharpened almost instantly, teeth gleaming brightly as his smile twisted. Forkington only had to think about what he meant for a few moments before he cursed and immediately reached for his rapier. Cagney stared blankly at the weapon, then, with a single vine, plucked it from Forkington’s grip, and sent it flying off into the distance. In response, Forkington shifted until the sunlight reflected off of his tines right into Cagney’s eyes. Cagney reared back, whipping his hands around in an effort to catch the man before he escaped or hurt Cagney. His metaphorical heart dropped when his hands met nothing but air. Cursing, he rubbed at his eyes, desperate to get his vision back. He hoped his little Nephew had gotten far enough away to put some distance now that Forkington knew they were aware he’d done something he shouldn’t have.

Though, Cagney thought, he really was glad Forkington wasn’t the actual Knight. He had been wishing he’d never gotten his vision back ever since regaining it at the wrong time while the Lady was sleeping off his wounds. It made that sight better, not great, but better. Diving back into the ground, he began following Mugs, as it was far easier to follow the Lady than some false Knight.

\---0---0---0---

Mugs cleared an impressive amount of distance in record time, his heels digging into the dirt to increase his pace and get him farther away. As soon as he couldn’t even see Cagney anymore, he paused long enough to pull his head down and dig around his soul liquid for the star piece. Holding it to the sky as Cagney had instructed, he glanced around for any sign of Forkington. With no Knight to monitor his surroundings, he was blind. Inkwell wasn’t good enough at pinpointing things to tell him where anyone was exactly.

Even in his far less revealing gown, he felt exposed, and he hated it. All the other times he’d lost sight of his true Knight, it had simply been about finding where he’d gone. He knew he’d been separated before, but even with that memory, he only had memories of red, white, and black.

As the star in his hands took on a bright glow, he wondered if he could start walking or if he had to be still for it to work. He didn’t have much time to think about it. From behind him came a voice he hadn’t heard since his stint in some unknown realm.

“Lost your knight again, Lady?”

Mugs immediately threw himself to the left, in an effort to get further from the axe who’d easily managed to come up behind him. He was tackled to the floor by the man, unable to move fast enough. Immediately he shoved his hands up between him and Chip’s chest, shoving with all of his might. Chip didn’t seem to even notice, too focused on pinning Mugs under him without losing his grip.

“No don’t panic!” Said the person trying to get a proper grip on the Lady’s arm. With the way he was trying to position his grip on Mugs wrist, Mugs got the impression the axe was trying to break his arm. He desperately twisted, attempting to get even one leg between him and Chip so he could push the man off. At the same time, he was trying to pry off the hand closest to him, grabbing from the thumb and pulling away.

“It’s okay! I’ll put them back on so you don’t die but I can’t let you run again! You’re the best chance I have of escaping death!” Chip cried out, using his superior weight to keep the Lady pinned. Inkwell, strangely enough, seemed calm about the situation. He found out why when a bright arrow pierced Chip’s chest, shattering his torso. Chip collapsed, being quickly shoved aside by a beyond livid Hilda Berg.

“I leave for a week and you just about die!” She kicked the still man away from Mugs, carefully picking him up as soon as she was sure Chip wouldn’t be moving any time soon. She cradled him to her chest, letting him slowly stop shaking before pulling him away to examine his wrist. He had a few cracks on his handle from the impact into the ground, and his wrist had a clear handprint shaped break on it, but he was ultimately fine.

“Just what.. Where’s your creepy brother?”

“Aunt Hilda, there’s been a mix-up, but I don’t know if Uncle Cagney has him still distracted. I need to keep moving,” He bent down to pick up the star piece, dropping it back into his head while staying as far away from Chip as he could. Hilda got the same look Cagney had, as if trying to figure out if he was okay or not.

“Just call up a hell-horse, I’ll keep up and you can explain what’s happened.”

“What…” Getting an idea, he brushed his hands against the ribbon still tied around his handle. Sure enough, it vanished from his grip, a circle flashed above the ground, and a hell-horse stamped its hooves into the dirt, trotting over to give him access to its’ back. He was lifted onto it via Hilda, and the moment he was safely seated across its’ back it was off. He gripped the jutting bones of its glowing vertebrae to keep upright. Hilda turned into an odd cloudy bull right beside him, keeping pace with the horse blazing a trail through the field, aimed towards the outskirts of the city.

“That man isn’t my Knight! He made a wish or something like it. I need to find the nearest Djinn and figure out what I can do to fix it!” Hilda, realizing Mugs wasn’t lying or far more injured than she’d thought, did exactly what Cagney had done, heave a big sigh of relief.

“Oh come on… What did he do?!” Mugs questioned, confusion growing based on her reaction alone.

“Kid, the things that guy did to you in his dreams is something I will _never_ tell you. I’m actually even more relieved to know you don’t remember his actions in that hotel. But the key here is, you need a Djinn, and luckily for you, I know just the one. He’s not too far from here either.” She angled herself towards the left of the city, the hell-horse following easily enough. Mugs spent a few minutes trying to figure out just what a fake Knight could do to him, came up with nothing, and just decided to save his questions for later.

Having Hilda next to him, a hell-horse, known for being vicious towards anything it decided it didn’t like, and Cagney below, he felt far safer. Even so, he glanced at the crack marks on his wrist and his soul liquid twisted. His true knight would have torn into Chip long before the man had even laid a hand on him.

\---0---0---0---

The trio wound up having to stop outside the city lines, Hilda needing to recalibrate her internal compass and Cagney needing rest. Mugs kept looking around them, flinching at the slightest sound of leaves rustling. It got to the point where Cagney simply curled up around him, pressing the boy close to his cheek and closing his petals, hiding the Lady behind vivid yellow and orange. Hilda, having returned to them, set up a perimeter around them, ensuring that anything approaching with ill intent would find themselves locked away in a nightmare until their death. They observed the sleeping Lady, sharing a look now and again. Neither could recall a time when someone had used a djinn to become one of Inkwell’s children.

They were even less happy that, apparently, the first one to do so happened to be so…handsy. They hoped that whoever the true Knight was, the moment he was returned, he went after the false Knight with all the wrath of Inkwell.

\---0---0---0---

The next morning, early on, they set back out, Cagney, realizing they had to go towards the city had to stop. The pipework underground made it impossible for him to travel safely. So he entrusted Mugs to Hilda. It wasn’t new to her, they’d been doing that for a while now, ever since seeing just how incompetent that knight was. Hilda had only told Cagney minor detail’s of that fake knights soap riddled dreams to get him to agree. They had made Lady swear to call on them any time he’d needed, and despite wishing to leave them out of it, he’d indeed called them a few times. Others, they’d sprung up to help, making it evident they were following him. He’d been embarrassed, but even Inkwell was content with the setup.

Watching their charge now, they were nearly estatic to see him almost pull a one-eighty in personality. The old one was far more docile, weakly shrinking away from his brothers every move. To a point, it almost seemed like the man hadn’t known he was supposed to be related to Mugs. Nevertheless, the boy was aiming to fix it, so they were more than willing to help.

Mugs, on the other hand, was busy trying to remember his brother’s name, upset that he simply couldn’t put a name to the blurry face. So for half of the journey he was desperately trying to dig through his magicked memories for any hint. In response, all he got was flashes of a cup, more red, and, oddly enough, the memory of a younger version of the porcelain blur stealing his straw, teasing him, and making him chase the blur for his straw.

For the rest of the journey, he was contemplating just what he would do to the djinn that had decided messing with the children of Inkwell was a good idea. They didn’t _have_ to grant every wish that came their way after all.

\---0---0---0---

Hilda guided him to a rather ostentatious pyramid shaped house on the edge of the city. She returned to her original shape, helped him off the horse, and pointed him to the entrance.

“He’s not…the biggest fan of dream creatures. But! If he gives you any trouble, I’ll be more than willing to remind him why he hates us. I’ll hold down the fort, you go see if it was him or if he knows, remember, wishes are the last thing you want to do with him.” She ushered him forward, deciding his best chance of a peaceful meeting was for her to stay outside and watch the entrance. The hell-horse returned to Hell, and the ribbon returned to his handle. He wasted no more time, going straight for the entrance.

Barely a step in, and he couldn’t feel Inkwell any more. Getting flashbacks to the Herald just put him in an even worse state. But djinn could just about smell weakness, they were so infamous that even his tutors had warned him about them explicitly.

The djinn in question was lazily floating above the sand colored tiles of his odd home, balancing an impossible number of swords on one of his fingers. Mugs glanced around the shop, and there on a shelf was a small, white tea cup with a little red and white bent straw in it. He refocused his gaze on the djinn. Inkwell or not, this djinn was a dead man.

“Excuse me!” He called out, gaining the broad chested man’s attention.

“Ah! Another person enters the lair of Djimmi the Great!” The man tossed the swords into the air where they vanished, he dropped to the floor of his apparent shop, and bowed deeply. “And just who might you be fair lady?”

“Lady Mugs of Inkwell, the same Lady whose Knight you switched out.” Mugs crossed his arms across his chest. Djimmi paused, giving him a long look, then shrugged.

“Well not exactly, it’s more, someone wished for it and I figured it would be interesting to grant!”

“Djimmi the Great is about to be Djimmi the toothless if you don’t fix this.” Mugs glared, lighting crackling down his arms. Djimmi burst into laughter, believing the tiny child before him to be more adorable than scary. He popped from his spot to directly in front of Mugs, grabbing the cracked arm.

“With your fragile hands? It looks like someone’s already got a _handle_ on you as is. Look Lady, it’s just a wish, the guy can’t be _that_ bad at guarding you, can he?” At the mention of injuries, the tiny tea cup on the shelf rattled.

“I’ve been told its better I don’t remember what he did to me while in his ‘tender’ care.” Mugs hissed, pulling at his wrist. Djimmi grimaced, not expecting that answer.

“Oh.”

“You made the wish, so fix it.” Djimmi hummed, floating up and away from the frosty porcelain child.

“Well I can’t just snap and fix it, or I can, but I don’t want to. It’s not fun to do that.” He drifted around in a circle, deep in thought. Mugs wondered if it was worth risking breaking his hand off to smack the guy. As the seconds ticked by, as evidenced by a clock near the entrance, he grew more and more sure that indeed, it would be worth it.

“I’ve got it! If you want me to fix it, first, I need the man that made the wish in the first place here, and you’ll have to prove to me just how dear your actual Knight is to you, say…tell me his name.” Djimmi was well aware Mugs memories were muddled, what he wasn’t aware of was that Mugs, upon seeing his actual brother on the shelf like some average tea cup, regained the name. He opened his mouth to tell Djimmi not only his brother’s name, but also exactly what he was going to do to Djimmi’s desert themed shop the second he got his brother back, but then the cup on the shelf shook hard. That was his only warning before two metal covered arms wrapped around his mid-section. Djimmi himself looked surprised as Mugs was easily lifted off his feet.

“I should have wished for you to love me before I wished to be the Knight, but we all make mistakes!” Forkington said, grunting when Mugs tried kicking at his legs. The cup on the shelf continued rattling audibly.

“Well I’m not in the business of granting those sorts of wishes, actually… I rather avoid those.” Djimmi cleared his throat awkwardly, frown growing deeper the longer the Lady flailed in Forkington’s grip. Mugs whipped his head back, sacrificing his handle so Forkington would drop him. The second his handle touched Forkington however, the ribbon reacted to the foreign touch. Forkington, stunned by the terrifying howl of a demonic dog, he dropped the Lady and scampered back.

Mugs almost tripped on his dress twice while trying to get out of Forkington’s range. He went straight for the tea cup on the shelf, snatching it up.

“Cuphead?” He held the tiny cup up so he could examine it closely. Djimmi, not a split moment later, snapped his fingers together. The sudden weight of his brother’s returned form caused his wrist to give in to the previous cracks. Cuphead, with his body and armor as well as his original size restored, managed to catch it before it crashed onto the floor. He paused to take in the blatant hand shape, looked back up at Forkington who now sported a fancy suit, took a moment to ponder his next course of action, and did the first thing that came to mind. Djimmi, Mugs, and a very content hell-hound panting beside Mugs feet watched Cuphead clear seven feet with two steps. Forkington barely had time to leap to one side, narrowly avoiding the seething porcelain Knight.

“He’s not even that great a knight!” Forkington cried. Djimmi wondered just how smart the guy was to try appealing to the person he admitted to wanting to wish forced love out of. Indeed, it proved to be the exact wrong thing to say.

“ _It was you!”_ Cuphead seethed, soul liquid boiling from his anger. Mugs fixed his broken limb with a flash of green magic, then glanced at Djimmi from the corner of his eye.

Djimmi felt a very real sense of danger crawl down his spine.

\---0---0---0---

In the end, Mugs wound up having to fix his hand all over again, Djimmi sported an impressive slap mark on his cheek for a month after the boys left, and no one had seen Forkington. Though, they _did_ notice the new flagpole atop Djimmi’s shop. Djimmi himself just about launched anyone that brought wishes about the Knight and Lady out of his shop in an impressive imitation of Inkwell’s own response to the next person that talked ill of either brother. It didn’t care if that method wasn’t permanently effective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're all wondering why i'm breaking these things out so soon, it's because i might be going away for a while next month and i want to try my best to not leave any of these on cliff hangers. i'm not ever going to lose my love of Cuphead though, that's for damn sure, so if i do up and vanish for a few weeks, it isn't because i gave up on the stories. any of them.
> 
> So! The first mistake was assuming a single Djinn could overpower Inkwell. The second mistake was assuming it wouldn't tell it's lady that a stranger had taken the actual knights place. The third? Getting grabby.   
> For those wondering, Forkington didn't like dirt. he liked to clean things. so...he cleaned. But uh... yeah he did forget the knight and lady were siblings. And just imagining an alternate universe with forkington as Mugs knight is awful so..   
> This is it...there's only one more Lady chapter. and it's the Phantom Express.


	30. Graduating Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some schools do grand ceremonies. Some force bands to play pomp and circumstance for no less than half an hour. This school? Not quite.

At the school King Dice went to, they didn’t have graduation parties. Nor did they have any grand ceremonies, at least, not like the ones in other schools across the river. Instead, they had a different sort of graduation, and Devil was less than pleased as he stalked the perimeter, looking into the building, hissing at any professor that got in his way.

“I thought you fuckers just did a hat toss and shit!”

“We used to, but then people complained they didn’t feel they’d learned enough to survive so this is us showing that they have.” The principal replied, watching the barrier around the school shudder in the Devil’s presence but ultimately hold. Devil grimaced, and cracked open a portal back to Hell. There was more than one way to defend his lover.

\---0---0---0---

The schools tradition could ultimately be dumbed down to a simple game. Hide and survive. The teachers, believing the best way to ensure the students were confident in their new skills, was to open up a call to anything and everything not so nice. Sometimes that meant playful spirits uncaring if their pranks wound up harming a person. Other times it meant truly cruel demons or spirts eager to rip and tear. No student could ever be sure of what they’d run into, so the general consensus was to stay away from all of them.

Already there were reports of a ghost wearing an odd duck costume running around spraying students with ‘cheese in a can’. At least that’s what the empty cans she threw at other students said. No one really wanted to question it, she wasn’t harming anyone, so they were plenty okay with her. Some of the others? Less so. Already a rather arrogant ghost had torn a student apart, ripping them limb from limb and devouring the organs. A few others had used the distraction to scratch and bite some other students but that led to them being locked in a barrier from a couple of the stronger witches.

There was another one lecturing students on history about some foreign country but no one knew just which one. He too, was far from ruthless, so they ultimately ignored him. What they didn’t ignore was the teddy bear going for people’s throats. That one had the misfortune of picking King Dice as a target, soaring through the area where his neck was supposed to be, and ending up roasting via fire magic. One of the students now wore the teddy bears singed outer casing as a hat.

The current goal was to escape the building. The current thing preventing that was multitude of unknown ghosts. Thus far, five rooms had been picked as the ‘rude asshole ghost prison’. Thus far, fifteen ghosts sat pouting in them, and one demon that would drool at anyone that passed. The demon, upon spotting King Dice move past with a small group, fled to the other side of the room and cowered. It had only taken three instances of demons spotting King Dice and immediately fleeing for their lives to get students to call for him whenever a demon was found. Whether it was for extra deterrent or a means of trapping the demon inside a room was up to the students around him. He didn’t mind either way, because it meant an easier time getting past the things not afraid of his lover.

As he’d said before, he was immortal, not invulnerable. He already had a chip on his face thanks to a ghost and a lead pipe. That ghost was also one of those trapped, and he’d remembered their face, the second this graduation was over he was coming back for that specific spirit.

He wouldn’t have to, Devil would hear about it, and that spirit would never be seen again. Sometimes, the rumors about the Devil weren’t entirely wrong.

He had found a few other students using their own summons to defend themselves, and while he’d contemplated it, he feared that if he did try it he’d wind up with Wheezy. Or Chimes. He had only met that guy _one_ time, he didn’t want a repeat performance. Chance was doing an admirable job anyway, ensuring he always had someone watching his back when separated from the other students. Word had gotten around about a particularly efficient spirit that had already torn into a few students, it hadn’t killed them, but the more it maimed the stronger it got. He didn’t want to run into that thing, and of course, it was what he ran into, and it was the reason he was alone on the top floor. The front door to the school was locked. The windows were all barred. The only ways out were destroying the doors, being small enough to fit through the bars, or, as evidence by the explosion below, ripping a hole into the walls.

He was rather pleased the students had figured that out as a method. Unfortunately he wasn’t anywhere near the first floor, so, between him and freedom, was a lot of unknown. Still, he was Lady Luck, and seeing as there was no one around, he kicked up his magic, and went for a stroll.

\---0---0---0---

His magic wasn’t great at doing necromancy. It wasn’t great at doing summons. It wasn’t great at anything elemental. The other kinds of magic were much the same, it simply wasn’t great, not horrible, but not great. He knew this, but the need to learn more had driven him to put a lock on his very self. It was fun, but now, he wanted to see if he still had it in him. The rather gruesome grin from Chance spoke volumes of what it would thought of its’ good friend going back to the basics.

The first spirit _somehow_ didn’t spot him. It went right past the figure strolling casually towards the staircase. The second entity noticed him, but a light fixture falling onto it distracted it easily. The third was a demon that took but a glance at him before doing as the others and flinging themselves into a nearby classroom.

To have his magic in full effect drained him a little, seeing as he hadn’t done so in a while, it was almost like a runner trying to do a mile after not having run for a month. He tired out far faster than he used to. Still, he’d managed to get to the third floor before it receded, leaving him diving into the hallway to avoid the one ghost he’d been trying to avoid. He sprinted through the halls, breezing past a few students who, spotting a student running, followed suit.

They managed to avoid a number of other souls, one of the students punting a living stuffed doll like a ball. King Dice had kicked his magic back up just enough for the kick to direct the doll into the pelvis of a pursuing spirit. That spirit went down so fast it had knocked over a few of the other entities. King Dice decided it was worth it in the end, especially when that spirit screamed ‘The second time!’ to the air.

They all knew they just had to reach the first floor. If King Dice was being honest he’d say he fully believed it was his own roommate that had blown open a wall, they’d remarked about that being their game plan before everything started after all. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d used less magical methods to punch a hole in the plaster if he was being even more honest. That wasn’t here and now though, so he kept moving forward with the other students also making for either that exit or another one. They were well aware the ghosts likely knew of that exit as well, so flocking there just meant a repeat of five graduations ago. Only one hundred of a two hundred graduating class made it that year.

The group had to fend off a few other spirits, one almost dragging a wolf student away until a very familiar bat levitated the spirit into a full tilt whirlwind spin. It was great until they learned that ghosts could indeed throw up. King Dice knew there were three hundred graduating that year, he wondered just how many had already made it out. He also had an idle thought about how well someone like the Lady would do in this sort of situation.

\---0---0---0---

Far across the country, the Lady of Inkwell was listening as a woman begged him to cleanse her house of cruel spirits. That cruel spirit turned out to be the woman’s antagonistic sister, they learned that after, having deciding attacking a person that could send the soul back to the physical body was a great idea, learned that it was—in fact—not.

The Knight hadn’t stopped making fun of the spirit for that mental blunder either, but of course, no one really minded. At least, no one that wasn’t also trapped in their rotten body.

\---0---0---0---

The second floor was full up of all sorts of creative methods from both sides. The students had somehow gotten the strength to pry off the bars on a number of the windows, that or used particularly solid ghouls to batter the bars off. The ghosts had taken to commandeering any bodies just ripe for the possessing.

It was a grand old time for anyone looking for an excuse to finally hit that one jerk of a student.

A couple ran by, screaming about having been cheesed. Another sprinted past, shouting about how there was no way to pass an impromptu test on another countries history when that wasn’t even in their curriculum. Somewhere far below he heard his roommates trademark laughter, followed by another explosion. A bird near the stairs screamed ‘they got a salt bomb!’ and right about that time was when hell broke loose.

Not literally of course, Devil was too busy threatening anyone near the calling portal about just what he’d do to them if they hurt his future wife. But figuratively, because four more explosions, non-lethal-ish to anyone living but agony to anyone not, ripped a chunk out of the staircase. When King Dice thought back to a few days ago when he’d come home to a temporary salt house courtesy of a suspiciously laughing roommate. He’d be more impressed if the things had been scattered more to leave far more of a spread-out impact.

Still, he was making progress, and the students were escaping in greater numbers the more they took cues from the more destructive sorts. The school never _did_ say extreme measures weren’t allowed, and magic was great at fixing these things. King Dice wordlessly pinned himself to a wall to avoid a student using two very confused hell-hounds as sled dogs. He didn’t know why he’d been so worried about graduation, he should have known his class was full of enough crazies to make any outside insane asylum drool in anticipation.

\---0---0---0---

By the time King Dice made it outside, the teachers were muttering about structural integrity while glancing nervously at the holey building. Served them right, he thought, his suit had four new tears in it, and the chip was starting to hurt. He made it a single step outside the barrier before getting tackled by an over eager lover. It was almost adorable how the man fussed over the tears, right until he started _licking_ the chip, claiming he’d fix it.

Ninety percent of the graduating class survived this year, leaving the teachers patting their backs in celebration. Each student was given a pin to put on their clothing to signify they were indeed witches certified by one of the best schools for it in the country. To many students it was the start to a new life, but to King Dice, it was the end of a new thing.

He almost wondered about going to another school to study further. Then Devil started chatting about how he had so many plans for what the two could do in his resort. About how they could spend all the time they wanted watching just how much people wanted to win or just relax.

“Of course, we don’t have to stay there…I just figured…since you enjoyed it so much the first time around…” Devil’s tail nervously flicked back and forth. A few students nearby covering their faces to muffle the coos of approval. King Dice examined his lapel; indeed, it had been a while since he’d aimlessly wandered. Besides, if Inkwell was capable of bringing him Devil, a singing career, and a magical certification, he had no doubt it had plenty more in store for him. This time though, he wouldn’t be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter for this pair. Just what else could i do from here? Well gosh i suppose i'll have to... ring... up some inspiration. For an added bit of comedy, just imagine Devil looming over every soul that comes near, grabbing them by whatever they got for a neck and 'you hurt my wife and I swear I'll find all those in here that you love and cherish and force you to eat their very being. See if i don't! You think I'm kidding?" all while the other workers wonder if this is the worst they've ever seen Big and Furry.


	31. Phantoma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it ends, but, is it over?

“Snoreen.”

“What?”

“The horse! Snoreen.” The hell-horse, currently walking along side the brothers as per Cuphead’s request, snorted in disapproval. Mugs just kept staring at his brother in confusion.

“You said I could name the next thing that came out of that ribbon!” Cuphead puffed up, “besides, have you heard that fella breathe? Snoreen.” Hilariously enough, the horse turned to look at Mugs, as if wondering if that name had to stick. Mugs sympathetically pat the horse on its’ flank while giving his brother a flat stare.

“You aren’t allowed to complain about Biscuit’s name anymore.” The horse drooped.

“Well it was that or Bella thumptown.”

“Oh, sweet mercy I can’t tell which is worse.”

“Exactly!” With that, the horse gained a new name, and a new minor hatred for the Knight. Still, it remained out. The brothers were debating on using Snoreen to travel to the next town faster. Though there was no reason to go any faster, since, things were decently quiet, they knew they’d have to start using faster travel eventually for when people halfway across Inkwell were causing trouble.

That, and the last house they’d investigated to help figure out if it was a relative haunting the place or not had required its services. No ghost recovered easily after being kicked in the face by a hell-horse. Really, both brothers thought that ghost had just dug a deeper grave by proclaiming their demonic status despite clearly not being a demon. The horse had not been amused, and had shown just how unamused it was rather easily. So, if Mugs was honest, he was rather impressed the show of force hadn’t scared his brother out of silly names.

It might also have been his lingering bitterness over the false knight and the axe. He’d just about frothed at the mouth when Inkwell narked. And Mugs meant that, he would have been plenty happy leaving Cuphead in the dark about what had gone on during Forkington’s little stunt. Considering _he_ was still, and would likely _stay_ , in the dark over what had happened in the alternate reality Djimmi poorly crafted. Still, the cat was out of the bag, and he figured if it made Cuphead happy to name a horse from hell, with whinnies that sounded like shrieks from the damned, then he wasn’t going to complain much.

“How about, since the next town is only a few hours away, we put off using….Snoreen… until we’re through with any issues there?” Mugs idly scratched under Snoreen’s chin. Snoreen melted a little.

“Yeah, besides, walking is plenty fine! It’s easier to see something coming when we’re walking!” As if to mock him, or to remind him that they were in the exact area two other Ladies had lost their lives to it, there was train whistle. Now this was only confusing for a short moment. The horse neighed like it was dying, Cuphead thought ‘that’s silly, there aren’t any tracks near here’ and Mugs thought ‘Thumptown would have been better considering what it did to that ghost’. Then the horse, which had been walking on Mugs left, and Cuphead on Mugs right, was forced to vanish lest it turn into a fine mist. Cuphead got a nice look at a grinning face leading the infamous steam-driven beast. He also got an even nicer look at his brother being next to him one second, and gone the next. The train’s speed alone caused him to stumble, but he stumbled right over a new summoning circle.

Under his feet, Snoreen returned with a vengeance. Everyone knew exactly what that train was, especially everyone in Hell. It was impossible to miss the violet beast constantly ferrying souls back and forth. Though the hell-horse wasn’t faster than the train, it could at least keep up with the caboose, or rather, it hoped it could. Anything was better than just sitting and waiting for its’ charge to succumb like the other living beings boarding that train had.

 Inkwell, having witnessed two previous deaths, quietly sent a “curious” and “polite” look Hell’s way. Hell, defying logic, broke into a sweat.

\---0---0---0---

Two Ladies under its’ belt, the Phantom Express was always hoping to add more. Sure, it meant trouble for Hell, but Hell couldn’t exactly do much to the undead engine. The Phantom Express was _needed_ if Inkwell didn’t want demons and the like mucking up its’ nice… everything. Still, two Ladies fell to the effects of the engine, and now a third was…currently punting the engineer’s skull into the open furnace.

Odd. The last two had just started crying out for their protectors. Then again, it had snuck a peek at the other porcelain Lady and the glare she’d shot at it had just about killed the engine from sheer wrath alone. Still, this was a rather impressive first impression.

“Two minutes! Two minutes is all I ask for something to _not_ snatch me or my brother up like it’s a common past time! Is that so much to ask?” The Lady, smacking away the engineer’s reaching hands with one of his own, hissed. He managed to squeeze his way past the engineer and get to the next car, since the head of the train was impossible to board. The child clearly knew the caboose was his best chance of escape, but to get there, he’d have to fend off the other workers and any spirits or demons on the express right now. The head of the train didn’t really think the young one had it in him, even if he was a little spitfire.

They didn’t last long, only twenty-four hours to be exact. This one would slowly fall to the draining effects of the train just like the others, and by the fourth car would be too weak to even move. The Express was made up of fifteen cars, not including the lead. The first Lady hadn’t made it past the fourth car down. The second had fallen after the fifth.

The engineer finally got his head back, mourning the loss of his hat, but his attention went back to the new addition to the Express. The brothers, next up, were always eager to ‘entertain’.

\---0---0---0---

Cuphead was still sort of unsure as to what was going on. He knew he had things to stab repeatedly, but he couldn’t wrap his head around what. Then again, the what was the thing every Knight learned to fear greatly. It was easy to fend off a bandit or three from their sibling. It was easier still to protect their sibling from grieving/angry/emotional people. It was not quite as easy to protect against spirits since weapons that hurt a ghost were so rare.

It was impossible to protect their Lady from the Phantom Express.

Every single Knight that heard its approach, if lucky enough, and after the first Lady died, would just scoop up their sibling and run for the hills. Figuring that if the train wanted their sister, it would have to take them too. The second time it happened wasn’t really the Knight’s fault, it was just after a battle, the Lady had just finished reviving a good number of relatives to settle a farm animal dispute turned brawl, and they were exhausted. He’d only gotten to hear the whistle for but a few seconds before never seeing his sister again, and he’d spent the last hours before Inkwell stripped him of his Knight status crying for his sister’s return.

As if to insult the man, a piece of her gown had drifted onto the ground before him as the train made its’s second appearance to the man. Still, he’d failed to protect his sister, and as such, Inkwell had taken his Knight status away, giving him a merciful death. People across the land had mourned the loss, she’d been a good Lady for the ten years she’d been around. He’d been a good Knight too.

Then it simply stopped going after the two. Plenty of souls explained its’ reasoning for going after the Lady, explained its’ simple hatred for her. But that didn’t make its’ theft of four of Inkwell’s children any better. It hated how the Lady messed up it’s schedule. Reviving the dead could mean recalling the souls boarding the express or even ones currently on it. Apparently, that meant a delayed schedule, and the train loathed delays with passion. Inkwell had tried to rip it apart once, but its last clumsy attempt just took out a town instead. The train was simply too fast, and when the Lady was on it, stopping it via sudden cliff was useless.

It had been quite a long time since the Phantom Express had spirited a Lady away. Why it felt the desire to pick back up, Cuphead had no idea. He didn’t really care though. The hell-horse was _just_ fast enough to keep the train a few meters ahead instead of a blip on the horizon. It wasn’t enough, and it certainly didn’t help that he had very little training on how to fight while on horseback. Even so, within a few meters was enough, and he had few other options, so, he let a charged shot fly. The hell-horse, not expecting to see a solid chunk of wall get flat out disintegrated, huffed in approval.

The pair of ghosts sipping tea, now missing half their clothing from the magic burst, awkwardly stared at the surprised Knight. Far ahead, the head of the train whistled in pain. Inside a car also far ahead, the Lady let out quite the sadistic laugh under his breath. He didn’t need to ponder long about what had caused the Lady-napping hunk of steel distress.

\---0---0---0---24 hours left---0---0---0---

The engineer, the thing that had been the first thing he’d seen upon landing on the train, had taken the brunt of his immediate wrath. He _would_ be afraid of being on a veritable doom train, but frankly, he had been having _such_ a good time earlier that his mood was too icy to be anything else. He figured he’d be scared later, when he was either nearing death or getting murdered by the things on the train. For now, he was angry, and the path he was cutting through the car immediately before the boiler area was a _war path._ He had _very_ little care for the demon that sneered at him.

He’d returned it with a stare so frigid the thing had immediately backed away. Anything on this train was guaranteed to be violent, hostile, manipulative, outright cruel, and rude. Any thought of being polite died a pathetic death. The boiler car door opened, telling him the engineer had regained his head, but that did little to panic the Lady. He’d dealt with plenty of skeletons before, he’d flat out stomped one out of existence in Kahl’s village. A fancy hat didn’t make a skeleton any less susceptible to a good curb stomp.

He’d calm down later, but until then, he was a Lady on a mission to _at the very least_ dish out as much damage as possible. He and Cuphead had been one city away from completing their first circuit, and Mugs was rightfully bitter. If he was going to be revived to be knocked silly by his mother, he wanted to at least make her proud while she was plotting just how to make him suffer. That or beg Inkwell to let Cuphead die by less cruel hands. Death by Inkwell was without a doubt the preferred method to go between it and his mother.

The car he was currently in looked like where the workers would stay, as it had individual rooms, and though it was close to the front of the train, it was also right next to the engines, which made it too loud to be luxurious. The floor was covered in a decent enough carpet, muting the Lady’s steps. He peeked into one that wasn’t currently occupied by a demon wearing a chef’s outfit, figuring a look wouldn’t hurt.

It didn’t, but it also didn’t help. Now he just knew there were workers who were great fans of keeping skulls with the exact same features wearing the exact same hat. Now that he thought about it, it was likely the room of the guy who’s first few moments of being in the presence of the Lady was learning exactly what Inkwell’s dirt tasted like on a shoe. The sheer amount of singed bone had him betting the man would stop by this room to get a new head. Mugs, having never truly lost the deviousness he’d had in his childhood, got an idea.

\---0---0---0---24 hours left---0---0---0---

When T-bone tried to get into his room, he found he couldn’t. The door’s handle was jammed with something that prevented the thing from moving. He couldn’t lift it to unlatch the door. He could barely see out of one eye, and his mood was already rather low, he didn’t need this.

Due to his lack of vision, he missed the beads jammed into the handle, locking it in place more effectively than the lock. Even if the beads hadn’t worked, he’d have never been able to open it, not with the ribbon looped around the decorative hole in the door and the frame itself. So for a solid hour he sat at his door, angrily trying to figure out which of the blaze brothers would have pulled this stunt.

\---0---0---0---24 hours left---0---0---0---

The next car was another room filled car, with a narrow hallway to make room for the comfy beds inside. He wondered just why this sort of train would need such a thing, then figured it was likely a false sense of niceness before those on board would inevitably be dumped back into Hell. He guessed he’d learn the reason when he keeled over. Two Ladies before him had died, and he wasn’t in any position to see his brother keeping pace with the train. Needless to say, his morale was low, but his spite was at an all-time high.

He wondered if it was because of his little stunt at Bon Bon’s place. Since the running belief was that if a Lady revived too many at once, it angered the train even more. There had been little reason to bring back more than a small—for a Lady—amount of bodies throughout the years. A small child poked their head out to peek at him. He didn’t buy the cute appearance for even a second. The child gave him a sadistic smile. Mugs had seen that smile a few times before, so he finally tossed care to the wind and spoke.

“I thought, that the Phantom Express would be full of wild and fun—albeit rude—spirits and ghouls and the like. Yet here I am, staring at what has to be the _worst_ attempt to be creepy I have _ever_ seen in my short life. I’m disappointed Phantom Express, very disappointed.”

The head of the train, still reeling from having part of its caboose blown apart, could only wonder just what the hell had happened to mortals in recent years. The child skulked back into its room, looking more dejected than anything else.

What wasn’t skulking or sulking, were the brakemen. The snake-like brothers, having been in the process of getting ready to jump surprise the Lady, changed their plan. One swooped down from the ceiling where both had been perched, tore open one of the doors to a room with an older spirit inside, the other knocked the Lady into the room, and then the two closed it. Preening over their successful capture of the Lady, they failed to realize just who they’d knocked the Lady into.

They’d come to regret that.

\---0---0---0---24 hours left---0---0---0---

Cuphead thought it was a damn good thing hell-horses didn’t get tired. This one was at a full gallop and still going strong. The train couldn’t exactly make sharp turns either, so it was even easier for the horse to keep up. With a gaping hole blown out of a wall, Cuphead had to wait for his magic to recharge before he could fire off another one of those powerful blasts. This time, he decided, he’d aim for the wheels. It would do exactly nothing to slow the mass of steel down, but the fact that he’d done more damage to the train than any other before him had him feeling decently happy. Well, the vindictive part of him was elated.

The horse tried to move faster, but it was simply impossible for the creature to gain more than a fraction of ground on the train. At this rate, it would just be ensuring the child got to be relatively close to his brother when he died.

In his soul liquid, a small scale shone in the light of the sun, catching not only the light, but the distress from the soul it was surrounded by. It glimmered just a bit brighter for a moment.

\---0---0---0---22 hours left---0---0---0---

Mugs stared at the roof of the car, resting his hands on his abdomen. The spirit he’d been trapped with simply flipped to the next page in their newspaper, content to let the boy stay where he was. He’d been doing it for two hours now, he had little trouble doing it longer. Though, another hour in, he couldn’t help but at least say hello to his new guest.

“Bit of a rough entry? The Express isn’t quite known for being gentle unfortunately.” The old man said, lowering his papers just enough to see the porcelain boy. Mugs heaved himself up, brushing off his skirt, and gently lowered himself onto the seat opposite the man.

“I’m not exactly the best guest, to be fair, but I’m also not supposed to be on this thing, to be even more fair.”

“Well, plenty say that, and keep saying it even when they wind up staring Devil in the eye.”

“I’ve done that a few times now, he’s rather nice actually! Have you been to Hell?” Mugs perked up, if this spirit was willing to talk, he wasn’t going to say no.

“You have? Huh… Well yes, I’ve been there quite a while, got a nice position too! I tend to a few of the animals up on a mountain. A farmer accidentally called me and the train had to come pick me up.” The old spirit put down the paper, glad to have someone pleasant to talk to.

“Oh! Does that mean you tend to the hell-hounds?”

“Sure do! And I’ll tell you the strangest thing, one of them recently been prancing around all excited. Says he’s got a new name now!”

“Does…Is he telling the others this new name?” The fact that the child was suddenly flustered didn’t register to the man.

“Yes indeed! Demands to be called Biscuit of all things! Why I think it’s the cutest thing a hell-hound ever demanded.”

“He likes it! Ha! The next time I see Cuphead I’m telling him.” Mugs did a little wiggle dance in his seat, gleeful with knowledge that he had something to rub in his brother’s face.

“It was you?”

“Yes! Mr. Devil, or rather, perhaps Hell? Gave me a nice ribbon that calls up something from Hell. Since it’s not on me, I’m going to guess Snoreen is still with my Knight.” The ghost stared at him for a few moments, then burst into hearty laughter. He laughed for a good handful of minutes, to the point that his face flushed a disturbing red under his beard.

“Far be it from me to ruffle any feathers normally, but, if you say you don’t belong,” The old man paused after having regained his breath from his bout of laughter. “How about I show you a nice little trick of mine? Never let it be said those in Hell are all discourteous ruffians!” A somewhat familiar circle appeared, a flash later and Biscuit stood panting right before Mugs. The hound’s tail’s wagged excitedly upon realizing just who he was summoned to.

“Biscuit!” Mugs pat the hound on the head, scratching behind one of the ears. The hound slouched. They wound up wasting another half hour simply chatting about the various creatures of hell. Mostly because the man was hoping the next thing that ribbon called up was a truly hellish beast.

“These little fellows are the nicest critters in hell. Horses are a close second, you’ve yet to see any of the truly nasty beasties.”

“Isn’t that a good thing though?”

“It is until you need a truly vicious beast to protect you.”

“Oh.”

“Aren’t there tales of this land being particularly…oh how to put it… diverse?”

“Well yes. But if you ask me the people from that other nation we met recently were far stranger than anything Inkwell could interest.” The thought of something being weirder than the things the old man had seen before being picked up made the man stare out the window in thought. He decided right then that yes, it was a good thing he hadn’t requested a day more on this land.

“But it’s just as well, my brother is probably wondering just who will get to him first, Inkwell or our mother.”

“Why is that?” The old man, once more intrigued, leaned his frail elbows on knobby knees.

“I’m the Lady of Inkwell, Inkwell’s child in a way. If my brother were the one here, it would just be a simple body hunt for me to bring him back from the dead. Me being on here means he’ll likely lose his knight status and our mother does so hate child crafting. I hope it’s Inkwell if I’m being honest…” Mugs rested his chin on his palm, idly patting the hound on the head. The old man leaned back, hummed for an odd amount of time, and then, oh so slowly, a rather sly grin grew on his face.

“Well see here little Lady, it would be plum rude of me to not offer assistance to someone such as yourself. You just let me come up with a plan and I’ll have you off this locomotive before the day is done!”

Mugs, not really having the heart to tell the man he could already feel an odd creeping sensation on his soul, gave the man a smile, and let the man think.

\---0---0---0---19 hours left---0---0---0---

“You really _don’t_ get tired, do you?” Cuphead, glad he wasn’t made of flesh because his legs would have been numb by now, lined up his next shot almost casually. This time, the horse was plenty aware of what he was doing. In response, its’ mane flared up and its’ unholy whinny had an almost smug lilt. The shot went off, Cuphead slid back a little on the horses back, creepy shadow hands pulled him back in place, and the back most set of wheels tore right off. As he thought, it didn’t slow the train down. But he did hear a startled whistle, which was plenty for him. If this thing wanted to kill his brother, he at least wanted to make it regret doing so.

Besides, his mother was absolutely going to put him through worse.

Currently they were going around hills, following a track of blackened bones. When he turned to see where the tracks vanished too, they were already gone, seemingly only always under the train. Even though he could clearly see them when looking at the train, fading out of his peripheral vision.

Thus far, the only thing he’d heard Inkwell say could be summed up as “a series of increasingly violent threats that made Cuphead wonder just how a land could do such things mentioned to another land. Currently Inkwell was talking about breaking off the main continent and drifting away so Hell would be forever alone. Though he didn’t know how exactly Inkwell would do that, he had no doubt it would try.

Then again, he fully planned on, after being horribly mauled by his mother and destroyed for failing as a Knight, to return as a spirit and wreck that train’s day. He had no doubt his brother would gladly join him too.

The train didn’t quite go faster, the folks in the back looked like they were placing bets on who would throw something at him first. He really hoped they did. He didn’t care if it meant falling unconscious on the horse, he’d gladly show them what happened to a person, living or dead, when hit with a bullet courtesy of Inkwell.

\---0---0---0---

“ _I’m going to move away from this spot, lose my sentience, and you’ll be forced to listen to those morons for the rest of your days.”_

**“Honey please, you don’t mean that! It’s just one kid!”**

_“Say that again and I’ll be one less Lady Luck too.”_

**“You know as well as I do I can’t control that thing! It’s my least favorite for a reason!”**

_“And it has one of my favorites, do you think I care? I’ll put your child into my space program! See if I don’t, you fetid waste of magic.”_

**“Don’t take words from your kids just to insult me!”**

_“Choke on a walnut.”_

\---0---0---0---19 Hours Left---0---0---0---

“The engineer is a skeleton. Hounds and Skeletons don’t get along. That door has a shoddy lock. So, here’s the plan. I’m going to open that door, Biscuit will go for that engineers face first, it’s just what he likes to do. While they’re all distracted, you run towards the caboose. The further away from Hott you are, the better…That would be, the Head of the train.” The old man whispered this plan facing away from the door, so the two brakemen peeking in every once in a while, wouldn’t see what he was saying. Mugs nodded.

“Biscuit won’t get hurt, will he?”

“Well probably, but hounds are durable, and all he’ll have to do is return to Hell to heal right up. Add to the fact that this train is linked to Hell, and he’s even more durable, and vicious. Don’t worry, is what I’m saying.” The old man stood, his stick thin limbs shaking from the sudden strain. He didn’t seem to care much however, too focused on curling bony fingers around the door’s handle. Mugs pulled Biscuit’s face so the hound looked him in the eye.

“Now Biscuit, that engineer is the reason I’ve got a crack on my arm, I’d be ever so grateful if you could return the favor for me. I promise that I’ll have a nice strip of corpse-jerky for you the next we meet.” The hound focused on the hairline fracture marring the smooth porcelain, looked at Mugs, and gave a shark-like grin.

Mugs loved Biscuit.

The door was ripped open, the man using strength Mugs didn’t think he had. The engineer, who’d by this point taken to patrolling the hall just so he could mull over which brother likely rigged his room, had his day go from bad, to worse.

\---0---0---0---

Biscuit was a simple hellhound. He wasn’t towering like his sister, or narrow like his brother, he was the middle of the road.

Biscuit loved simple things too, he liked scritches, he liked to eat dead things, he liked playing soul fetch, he liked pats, and he recently added the tiny child Hell sent him to, to his list of likes.

The child gave great scritches.

Biscuit, being the simple dog he was, also had simple reactions. He saw food, he ate it. He saw a soul, he went for the throat. He saw a friendly hand, he awaited scritches. 

When the door opened and he padded out, he sniffed around for a little bit. So many new smells were a bit distracting, he couldn’t help it really.

Biscuit thought he heard something speak, and because he was trained to, he looked up.

Biscuit the simple hellhound spotted a skeleton.

Biscuit remembered what his favorite child had said.

Biscuit zeroed in on the skeleton’s arm.

Biscuits drool burned a hole into the carpet.

Biscuit the simple hellhound did what simple hellhounds do.

\---0---0---0---19 hours left---0---0---0---

“Dogs aren’t allowed on the train!”

“I’ll have you know he’s a hound, not a dog, got snake bits in him too!”

“You know _damn_ well—” T-bone screeched in horror as the hound lunged for him faster than he could do anything else. The hound leapt up, T-bone heard the blaze brothers return, hearing the commotion. The hound bit down, eager to gain its prize.

The blaze brothers got a first-class ticket to the show.

There was screaming. There was an impressive array of curse words. There were demands to ‘return my humerus you sorry bag of fur!’.

“Oh great, now he’ll find even _fewer_ things funny!” One brother told the other.

“Uh, bro? Where did the mutt come from?”

“That room.”

“That’s where we put the kid.”

“…Oh….”

A leg bone conked the nearest brother on the head, and like a light, he was out. Through it all, Mugs slipped by the commotion, Biscuit ate a knee cap, and the old man had never had a funnier ride on the Phantom Express.

\---0---0---0---18 hours left---0---0---0---

Mugs found himself on the fifth car away from the head of the train. It looked to be a dining car if the tables and frankly disgusting food was anything to go by. The riders all stared at him curiously. They’d heard a commotion up ahead, but more had been interested in hearing what was going on in the back of the train. So it was less full than usual. Mugs held his head high, strolling down the center lane like he had always been a passenger.  

A demon, not taking the cold look as a warning, reached out to grab the skirts of the new-comer. It got a knife embedded in its palm as a reward. Mugs loved the slight of hand taught to him, he was finding so many uses for it. Though he could do without the creeping sensation pawing its way into his soul the more time went on. The demon stared at their pierced hand, poked the knife, nodded to the boy, and went back to its meal. The barkeep behind the bar looked like they were contemplating stopping him, but then figured that wasn’t really their job. Besides, the kid was heading right for Specter. That, and the kid wasn’t even halfway down the train yet.

The barkeep didn’t think the kid would get past the seventh car. The few living deciding to hop aboard rarely even stayed conscious after five hours.

The next car was a passenger car, with plush benches lining either side. This car was just about empty as well, with only a few sleeping passengers here and there. Mugs quietly pushed his way down the line, even as his vision warped halfway down. Of course, right at the door his legs shook too much, there was a lurch from his magic, and before he knew it he was sprawled across a bench cushion. He thought he felt his magic heave itself up, as if waking from a slumber once more. But his world was fading out too much for him to be sure.

It truly did suck to not be connected to Inkwell. He also now fully understood why the Ladies of before hadn’t simply used their magic.

\---0---0---0---12 hours left---0---0---0---

Cuphead, who’d been recounting tales of his childhood, paused briefly when an odd shadow flew over him. He glanced around, confused at what could be big enough to cast such a shadow. Then he heard the roar.

“Excuse me! Mr. Knight! It’s me, Grim!” Cuphead’s jaw just about dropped off. Flying just above them, easily keeping pace with the Phantom Express and the hell-horse was an all too familiar green dragon.

“You were distressed Mr. Knight! I came over because I was told that I could save the princess!” Grim shouted over the sound of the train. Cuphead and Snoreen shared a wide-eyed stare of amazement. Instead of verbally shouting, because Cuphead had little faith in being heard over everything, he nodded once. Grim gave him a cheery grin, and shot forward faster than anything Cuphead had ever seen.

In mute fascination, the duo watched Grim cut through the sky until he was face to face with the head of the train.

\---0---0---0---12 hours left---0---0---0---

“Shall we do this the nice way Mr. Train or shall I tear you apart piece by piece?” Grim’s clawed hands flexed, fire dripped from his maw. Hott _almost_ hit the brakes in shock. Then, he gave up the little game he’d been playing with the Knight, and gunned it. Grim’s face remained above him, and then it was beside him, on either side actually.

“Oh goodie! This will surely count as a glorious rescue, don’t you think?” All three heads spoke at once, even as the claws descended, right before the teeth did.

Let it be known that dragon teeth were far sharper than they looked. Hott, who’d never come across a dragon before, would learn to fear the skies after being hefted off the ground entirely until him and the car behind him were dangling in the air. With no lead car to keep the tracks going, the rest of him immediately began snaking violently side to side, trackless. He would focus on trying to break the hold or extending his wheels down to regain the track, but a dragon flat out tearing one of his eyes out and ripping a gouging line into his gums, into his cheek, and almost through bone, had all of his attention.

Brakes finally snapped down, Hott desperate to break free of the dragon’s hold. Grim started yanking on Hott, as if trying to tear apart the coupling hitch. A heavy tail smashed into his side, denting the metal. Finally, the following cars regained enough control, likely due to the workers buzzing about to keep the train from toppling onto its side. Screeching brakes rattling everyone in the vicinity down to the bone marrow—or soul liquid—the train decelerated quickly enough to dislodge Grim’s grip. Grim didn’t mind, he simply followed the train down. When Hott landed brutally on the dirt, Grim dropped onto his roof.

“Such a grand rescue! I’m the best! Now why don’t we chat about how lovely this hillside is! Goodness, it’s a fine day to be rescuing princesses and becoming a true dragon isn’t it?” A pained huff of steam was his only response.

\---0---0---0---12 hours left---0---0---0---

“Ohhhhh, I’m thanking Mugs the second I see him. Can you imagine if I had to fight that guy?!” Cuphead wildly gestured to the train a little way ahead of him. The horse just continued galloping forward, right up until it realized it was going a tad too fast to stop smoothly. As it was, Cuphead did indeed board the Phantom Express before his brother was dead. He boarded it by being flung off the back of a hell-horse directly onto one of the seats sticking out of the tear in the wall of the caboose.

He groaned, glad that his armor had taken most of the impact. Snoreen gave a neigh that almost sounded vindictively pleased. Cuphead decided that was the _one_ dig that horse got for free.

Recovering quickly, because he was now on a rather unfriendly train, even if the train was currently being held hostage by a frankly terrifying dragon, he twisted until his feet hit the floor. The passengers were all flopped out on the floor near the door due to the rapid braking. Which, considering they’d been clearly talking about throwing things at him, just made it easier for him to start the party. Without knowing where Mugs was, he couldn’t just charge wildly ahead. His swords didn’t care what was on the other end, and as shown from Cagney, if he didn’t know he was swinging at Mugs, he’d risk hitting his brother. However, he _did_ have a certain weapon that _did_ register the Lady. The spear flashed into existence above his hand, the weight settling in his grip.

He was about to ruin a lot of ghosts’ days.

\---0---0---0---12 hours left---0---0---0---

The Lady woke up to a painful headache and three ghosts hovering over him in curiosity. In a reflexive panic, he let out a burst of magic. The green and yellow lightning came readily enough, not hindered despite his lack of connection to Inkwell. Once again, it almost felt like his magic was _waiting_ to be set on those intending to harm him. Sure, these ones might not be hostile, but he didn’t think that was the case. Even if it was, hovering over someone was awful rude.

He winced as their souls briefly fought his magic’s grip. Then his magic tightened the reigns, and the ghosts reluctantly moved away as forced. The Lady didn’t need a body to take charge of a ghost, most necromancers didn’t. Most could control spirits to a degree.

It made for wild corpse parties, that was for sure.

Awkwardly rising to his feet once more, he used the chairs to keep upright. The grip around his soul was tighter now, but he also noticed one key difference between now and earlier. The train wasn’t moving. That was all he needed to motivate himself into action. Even if he didn’t survive for much longer, he wanted to at least try and tell Inkwell to not blame Cuphead, and to off Cuphead in the event their mother went after Cuphead. Which, was inevitable the more he thought about it.

The world continued to shift, but he pressed on.

\---0---0---0---11 hours left---0---0---0---

As it turned out, spearing a lot of ghosts and demons was fun, and time consuming. He’d gone two cars in and was still neck deep in prime stabbing material. The seats were just used as springboards to keep out of the numerous hands. There were easily fifty or so enemies within a single car. But it wasn’t like he could get off, find a random car up ahead, and board there. He didn’t think for one second that those doors would open for him, even with Grim merrily chatting away up ahead.

He thought, as he reached the fourth car, he felt something scrape at his soul, but he really hoped not. He didn’t want to think the train was already having an effect on him. If it was, he didn’t even want to ponder how his brother was feeling.

He vaulted over two stout demons, using the spear as a pole to soar over the reaching hands of the dead. Then, at the top of his arc, he recalled the spear, called it back, and let it fly into the crowd, taking out four more. Ghosts, as it turns out, don’t expect something to have any effect on them, what with being dead. So, a spear going through the gut of someone who doesn’t expect it to hurt, only enhances the pain. He might not be killing them like Chalice did to her brother, but he didn’t need to. He just needed to distract them enough for him to get by.

He landed amidst a handful of suddenly cocky ghouls. He arched a brow, unconvinced they had a reason to look like that. Then he realized why. He didn’t have the spear in hand, and every car behind him was thoroughly throttled so no word had spread. They thought he was defenseless. He gave a cheerful whistle. He didn’t have to, the spear wasn’t a dog, but it came to his inner call just as if it was answering the whistle. When it had to go through four in a row, well, that was just the works, wasn’t it?

His smile dropped when he realized behind those four were eight more that had moved out of the way. The bells on the spear chimed, he took a deep breath, and went for it. He thought, even if it was for but a second, that if Snoreen had been with him, things would be going _much_ faster.

\---0---0---0---10 hours left---0---0---0---

The next time Lady opened his eyes, he was on the floor of the seventh car from Hott. There was a tiny demon poking at his straw. Another prodded at his cracked arm, the crack having grown larger. Batting them aside, he got onto his hand and knees, trying to get back on his feet. A ghostly tail tapped under his chin, right until he sat on his heels and looked up, too dazed and half awake to do much else. The ghost before him was a fair bit less intimidating than the group behind it. Though, the black void where an eye would be was a tad odd.

The ghost smiled at him, though the smile was less than friendly.

“Why hello! Good to see the one causing such a mess up ahead. You know, T-bone only _just_ fought off that dog. And those brothers are all wrapped around one another thanks to that dragon of yours ruining all of the brakes. We haven’t used the emergency line in _years_. This is why we don’t like your sort I tell you.” Mugs blinked slowly, hazy mind taking in what was being said but not truly registering it.

The ghost leaned closer, lifting one hand so a bright yellow eye could focus on him. Mugs slowly lifted one of his own hands, mirroring the pose of the ghost, and then violently jabbed the hand in his face, just about taking out the eye entirely. The ghost reared back, cursing loudly, clutching their hand with their other hand.

“I see you’ve got this situation in the palm of your hand!” Mugs, tired and fully uncaring, giggled at his own joke. The crowd behind the ghost either groaned in annoyance, laughed, or sighed. The ghost, however, was less happy. He thrust his eyeless face into Mugs own, until their faces were inches apart.

“Rude.”

“Shhh, it’s…you hear that? It’s the sound of you not talking.”

“No, that’s the sound of someone violently ripping open the door. Which is rather odd, considering the only—” A spear drenched in the blood of no less than seventy demons, ninety ghosts, and three very unfortunate goblins cut a hole right through the ghosts’ chest.

“Spear me a second, but I think you’ve got a new piercing.” Mugs drawled, poking at the tip hovering a breath from his nose.

“Did I just hear a lame pun? Mugs?!”

“I don’t have ears, I can’t _ear_ you.”

“Ohhhh, I’m both happy and annoyed!” The spear vanished, the ghost twisted around to face the new threat, and a hand went through the hole in his chest.

“Cup! Cup look! A holey ghost!” Mugs giggled, swaying side to side until flopping over onto the floor once more.

“Whoever woke him up is getting shanked until there’s nothing left to stab!” Cuphead, currently planting his boot in the face of a demon and stabbing another in the throat with his sword while the spear cut a line down the aisle, tried to figure out deserved double stabbing. If his brother was telling nothing but horrid jokes, he was at the point of exhaustion that he just didn’t care what he said anymore. The last time he’d been in such a state, the teacher forcing his brother to stay awake for as long as possible after using almost all of his magic burst a blood vessel and had to be brought back via run of the mill necromancers to continue giving lessons.

Cuphead, tired for different reasons, plowed through the crowd before him. He wished they’d just get the hint and clear the way. Either mean ghosts were masochists or just highly arrogant. As a ghost sent sailing through the air slammed to the ground in front of Mugs, Cuphead felt a demon wrap fingers around his ankle, pulling him down into the nearest seat hard. His handle cracked entirely off upon impact, he bit back a pained hiss.

Across the car, Mugs sat up straight, eyes laser focused on the demon he could see trying to break off his brother’s leg. His magic hissed, lightning crackled down his arms, the crack on his arm vanished entirely. An eye searing burst of light later, a boom so loud Grim, perched on Hott’s head as he was, shrieked in fright, and the demon found themselves being stomped into the floor by just about everything else dead. Cuphead, handle fully repaired, scrambled over the chairs, using the distraction to the fullest.

The ghost from before, resisting the pull of Mugs’ magic, tried to impede his progress. He got speared in the face for his efforts. Cuphead crashed into Mugs, his momentum carrying him too far. Though, neither brother minded too much. Cuphead wrapped his arms around Mugs’ waist, pulling the far weaker sibling up since it was evident he couldn’t do it on his own.

“Biscuit likes his name.”

“Bis…oh. Does he?”

“Yeah, he also likes skeleton bones. He’s a good dog.”

“I bet he is!” Cuphead slung one of Mugs arms over his shoulder, hefting the two of them up. Tired though he was, the burst of energy he got from the knowledge that he not only hadn’t lost his sibling, but also wasn’t going to get mauled by his mother, was more than enough.

\---0---0---0---

**“Oh look, he’s not dead. You can stop testing your aim now. I think you’ve sufficiently scared that neighboring country.”**

_“Good, let them wonder just what annoyed me so much. At least they’ll now go out of their way for a little while to not upset me at all. Unlike a certain grouch.”_

**“There is no way I’m the grouch of the two of us. I’m not the one taking pot shots at a mountain!”**

_“I’m not the one with unruly children. You are a terrible parent.”_

**“I can’t believe you of all things are judging me. Didn’t you kill a few of your own kids?”**

_“…”_

**“Oh come on! I didn’t lie! Don’t try breaking off from the mainland because you can’t handle that!”**

“ _I want a divorce!”_

**“When did we get married? When did you learn about marriage? Who taught you?”**

_“You can keep the furry child.”_

\---0---0---0---

The second the brothers were off the train, after having to go back through the cars Cuphead had charged through, Grim was happily hopping side to side. The horse, having not left until it could see the child Hell had assigned it too safe and sound, bailed the second it spotted the two. Considering the ground shook just a bit every time Grim hopped, Cuphead could fully see why.

“I did it! I have helped save a princess!”

“If he was awake I’m sure he’d be thanking you. You’ll have to put up with just me thanking you for now I suppose.” Cuphead, carrying his brother after Mugs had simply collapsed two cars into their exit, gave Grim an fatigued smile. He didn’t want to fight so many people at once ever again. Grim preened, bashfully blushing.

“I’m a full dragon now! Do I look any different?”

“Are you supposed to?” Cuphead didn’t see anything different. To him, Grim looked entirely normal. He hoped he hadn’t insulted the dragon.

“Well, I don’t know? Hmm, perhaps I need to keep protecting the princess? The others didn’t quite explain it to me all that well. If that’s the case, keep my scale please, and be sure to call me whenever there is a need to rescue the princess!” Grim, pleased as could be, head held high above, plodded away, taking flight once he was far enough away. Mugs continued to snooze, peacefully dreaming away.

The brothers would celebrate the completion of their first circuit around Inkwell later. For now, Cagney was rising up from the ground between them and the slowly recovering train, doting on them. Wrapping them up in his vines with the promise that, if anything wanted them, they were out of luck.

The two would eventually continue on their journey, as the job of a Knight and Lady didn’t stop until either the people, death, or Inkwell decided it. But that was later, Inkwell was content to know its children were safely tucked away. The people were content, with high hopes for their new Lady and Knight. The king and queen were just about over the moon with the good word of their children.

So the young teens, children in their species eyes, were allowed to rest for as long as they needed. There’d be plenty of mayhem to come later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The open ending is open for a reason. There are plenty of beasties in our lore. I intend on writing the pair(or even king dice or any of the others perhaps, interacting) My only rule for mythical beasts is someone has to have drawn them based on their lore. Like the manticore, or the Natchkrapp. Inkwell is full of all sorts of odd creatures, some are hostile, other's aren't. If you've got any you'd like to add to the meet and greet pile, go ahead and either tell me in the comments here or on my tumblr. Either or really!
> 
> Even so, this is the last chapter of the main line. Think of the next set as a side-step.   
> I do hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Mugman in a dress is all I wanted in this world and this thing gave me an excuse to take it even further.   
> Till the true last chapter!


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it ends.

King Dice couldn’t just sit and watch when it came to resorts as it turned out. He’d sometimes interfere if he felt like it. Devil found the embarrassed reaction when King Dice was caught funny. It wasn’t as if he cared about his future spouse toying with mortals. He did it _himself_ half the time. The imps were restless at first when he started adjusting casino wins, but all that took was an imp having its head bitten off to tame the others.

At present, King Dice was watching a couple of children race around the pool, despite the life guards demanding they stop. His green eyes followed their little feet slap the dry tiles, narrowly avoiding wet patches. Then, as soon as they neared the deeper end, his eyes lost their glow, and the two lost their footing not four steps later. The children’s screams were cut short by the water as they were sent into the pool, little feet flailing in surprise. The father of the kids, at least he assumed it was the father, dove in after them, beating the life guard easily.

King Dice sat back in his chair, perching comfortably on the seat positioned next to Devil’s chair. The two lounged on the upper floor, safe from the splashing but able to see the pool all the same.

“You know I bet I could do to you what that fella is doing to his girl.” Devil remarked, tail lazily pointing at a couple. King Dice glanced over, watching the man playfully toss the woman in.

“If you did, I’d shave you bald.”

“I could just shift the hair back.”

“Testing your luck?”

“I would _never_.” Devil bat his lashes at King Dice, giving the man a saccharine smile. King Dice huffed out a laugh, returning to his favorite past time of people watching. Devil continued silently pointing out more interesting interactions every once in a while, perfectly happy to laze about. Every once in a while, the two would laugh as someone ate water or tile of their own accord. King Dice covering his laugh with a cough, and Devil outright snorting loudly.

\---0---0---0---

“They figured if they poured enough oil on me, they’d be able to use my face as a reflection so they could—as they put it—check their teeth before their test.”

“Did it work?”

“No. and they almost failed that test because of how much oil they still had on them.”

“Ha…”

A child wailing at a broken tooth on one side, and a woman cursing loudly of a chipped tooth of her own kept their attention for a few minutes.

“Do you get sun burn?”

“What?”

“So you don’ then?”

“I don’t…even know what that is.”

“Oh man, so there was this one time where the lackeys figured out how to prank me good right? Told me I needed to get a summer shave and everything. So there I was, shaved so it looked like I had a furry t-shirt and shorts. No fur on my belly, none on my legs below the knee… nothing. Oh, I learned the true meaning of pain that day.”

As if to show just what he meant, the fur receded from Devil’s belly, exposing his chubby abdomen to the sunlight. King Dice only lasted a second before giving up and laughing.

“Got even worse when they slathered that oil on me! I squeaked everywhere for a solid _month._ Because as it turns out, you can’t poof away burned skin!” King Dice curled up in his seat, trying to keep from falling off while Devil simulated said squeaking.

\---0---0---0---

“He’s going to lose.”

“Is he?”

“Don’t you even think about changing his outcome!”

“Why Devil, I would _never._ ”

\---0---0---0---

All it took was Pirouletta complaining about how disorganized Wheezy and Chimes were at running their portions of Hell to interest King Dice. He’d spend the next months learning how Hell kept from falling to pure disorganization like it had been before. The new system being required if the ritzy hotel appearance was going to stay. King Dice particularly liked how, instead of exercising rooms, they had torture rooms.

“This is where we place horrible singers in with good singers, it’s quite difficult silencing the good ones so only the bad ones can sing to their hearts content. This is where we place those with little knowledge of a subject in with people with great knowledge of a subject.”

“Doll you gotta get to the best part! These are the rooms where we have people who are allergic to cats bathe the critters.”

“That is not the best though, the best is the angry preachers being forced to watch those they said were doomed for Hell laze about in Heaven.”

“Ohhh you got me there! What about…”

\---0---0---0---

King Dice somehow wound up figuring out how to make things run even more efficiently in Hell. Allowing the workers to go from having little time to just enjoy the fruits of their labor to having an entire day off to do so. He had no idea how he managed it either, figuring it had to have come from his lock-ups from the past giving him access to a front row seat on what not to do.

Devil just found it cute to watch King Dice chew out a few of his lackeys for a missed bit of paperwork or undue slacking. Hell loved watching souls go from complaining about boredom to fleeing from wild hounds or eager demons.

Though, that wasn’t the only thing King Dice did with his newly freed up time. He found himself the perfectly willing dance partner to the oddly over-eager Lord of Hell. He could do without listening to Devil poorly hold a tune though…

\---0---0---0---

An entire month of Devil’s life was devoted to learning how to play various instruments. Not because he’d recently heard of some uppity mortal bragging about being so good at the fiddle they could beat him. No, it was because nothing got King Dice swaying and dancing faster than great music. Devil would readily admit to being jealous the first time King Dice had giving a dreamy sigh to a saxophonist, right until Pip and Dot gave equally dreamy sighs much the same to the player. Pirouletta balked at trying to give Devil dance lessons. But she was determined to ensure that her boss didn’t embarrass himself trying to show off to King Dice.

No one wanted another bar incident.

\---0---0---0---

The bar incident could be summed up shortly. Devil saw a man smoothly slide across a polished floor, stopping perfectly in front of his date. The date swooned, flattered enough for a blush to bloom on their cheeks. He then spotted his own lover talking to the Tipsy Troupe at the bar, and got an idea.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized the trio had just finished polishing the wood to an ice like shine.

He learned though.

He learned by sliding from one end of the bar, past a thoroughly stunned King Dice, to the other side, where he’d slid right off the bar, down into the horse track below. There’d been much screaming. After all was cleaned up, King Dice would, while healing the various injuries on the Beast of Sin, break out into a fit of laughter. Devil figured it was worth it anyway, he _loved_ making his Lady Luck laugh.

\---0---0---0---

While basking in the evening sun, watching beach goers splash around Inkwell’s sandy coast, Devil asked a question. Now, what caught King Dice’s attention wasn’t the question, but the odd nervous tone in Devil’s voice.

“Hey… King? You love me?” King Dice sat up from where he’d been laying down.

“Yes?”

“Ha! He said yes!” Devil flew at King Dice like a man throwing himself at the love of his life after they’d said yes to marriage. Then the ring appeared on King Dice’s finger, sliding smoothly down to it’s proper position on his ring finger. Devil dipped King Dice into a deep kiss, which was reciprocated, albeit by a reeling lover.

“Wait, doesn’t marriage have to be sanctioned?” He got out in-between smooches. Devil paused, squinted at the sky, as if searching for something.

“Ey, Pa! He said yes!” A bunch of clouds swirled by, spelling out a response.

‘When is the wedding?’

“I ain’t inviting you!”

‘I’m coming, I also want grandkids.’

“How?!”

“Oh Hell no.”

\---0---0---0---

Later, leaning against Devil, humming a smooth song, King Dice’s eyes kept wandering from the room they shared now to the ring.

He almost broke his tune trying to keep the fond chuckles down. Honestly, Devil hadn’t even needed to pull a fast one for King Dice to say yes. He would have said it regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later on they'll adopt Cuphead and Mugs, simply because neither can figure out what sky-dad meant by grandkids. But neither one is willing to risk anything. The boys will be confused, but what do you say when the king of hell tells you and your brother he's adpoting you so he doesn't have to find out if bodiless types can get pregnant. 
> 
> As stated earlier, this isn't a hard end, but it is the end of this story. Thanks for joining me!


End file.
